


The Humble Pie

by sepherim_ml



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Kid Fic, M/M, Mommy Dean, Mpreg, Pre-Stanford, Protective Gabriel, Wincest - Freeform, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepherim_ml/pseuds/sepherim_ml
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Trickster decides to take the matter in his own hands about the future apocalypse. The only way he knows is to give to the Winchesters something else to live for other than John's vengeance, Sam's plan of rebellion and Dean's desperate need to keep the family together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the first round of spnmpregbb at LJ. You can find the [art post here](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/99135.html).

  
  
  
  
  
**The Trickster**  
  
  
There are many ways to fuck up Fate. Some are funny, ironic maybe, others are downright ridiculous.  
  
The Trickster knows these ways. It's his job to keep the bad guys in line, giving them the bitter end of their dick moves, creating fit punishments and, sometimes, scarring them for life.  
  
The Trickster checks on his next 'victim'.  
  
This one is different from all the other dickheads he has had to deal with in the past. He can see it with his Other Sight, peeking into his soul and being almost in awe of its shine. There are dark spots dancing in the sheer light, but they aren't plain darkness, more like doubts and self-loathing tainting an otherwise perfect soul.  
  
The Trickster has no other doubts. This man downing one drink after the other all by himself is Dean Winchester, the one that, one day, is going to be known as the Righteous Man.  
  
The Trickster closes his eyes and his appearance changes. Brown hair, blue eyes, tall and well-muscled. In a blink of an eye he's wearing the shoes of Justin Colt, electrician from Memphis, strolling into South Dakota to visit his sister Holli.  
  
Dean Winchester is a man that attracts people.  
  
Men and women are looking in his direction with envy, longing and lust. He's a gorgeous young man, with those plump lips that are almost popping from his face like posh cherries.  
  
It doesn't seem a difficult move to try to have his way with Dean, definitely.  
  
Dean is buzzed by all the alcohol he drank, but he doesn't seem like he wants to stop any time soon. The Trickster sits on the stool beside him, smirking and putting a glass of alcohol on the counter.  
  
"Hey, I'm Justin," the Trickster introduces himself. A spark of interest lights up his dim eyes and the Trickster doesn't suppress a smile. "Looks like you're trying to forget somebody."  
  
Dean picks up his glass and cheers. "My family is fucked up, man. I'm fucked up."  
  
The Winchesters. A family of hunters who travel all around the states to gank monsters and ghosts, formed by one lousy drill sergeant father, John, one teenager brother, Sam, and one perfect soldier, who is the person that the Trickster has in front of him. He knows their family like the back of his hand. Their names are intertwined with Fate from the beginning of their bloodline.  
  
It's not a fluke Dean Winchester is supposed to become the Righteous Man. Well, more precisely, Dean and his father are battling for that title. The Trickster doesn't know every event that will happen precisely.  
  
"So, no girlfriend, no boyfriend, just family?"  
  
"I have enough problems as it is," confesses Dean. The beat of his heart increases and the Trickster peeks into his mind.  
  
There are fragments of memory, a little dimmed by the effects of the alcohol. There was a huge fight a couple of hours ago, between John and Sam. Sam's words are still whirling in Dean's head like a mantra ( _"I want a different life! I want a normal life! I don't want to become like you!"_ ) along with his father's words ( _"I raised you the best way possible! We have to avenge your mother, not build a house in some town, forgetting all about the supernatural world!"_ ). Something tells the Trickster that this kind of fight is really common in the Winchester 'household', and Dean is becoming tired of being the buffer between the two strong – and sometimes crushing – personalities.  
  
This is the perfect night for the Trickster's plan.  
  
"How about I offer you another drink and some comfort?" Justin asks with husky voice.  
  
"What kind of comfort?"  
  
Justin leans over, whispering into Dean's ear. "The kind that will rock your world."  
  
A sharp intake of breath makes Dean's subsequent words useless. The Trickster smiles, putting a hand on Dean's thigh. One night and the Trickster will change a script written millennia ago.  
  
"Dean, it's time to go."  
  
Or maybe not.  
  
A hand grips his shoulder and yanks him away from Dean. Sam Winchester is the portrait of rage and jealousy. Damn, the Trickster wonders if he can make Sam change his mind, but Dean's attention is already focused elsewhere.  
  
So, when Sam orders him to go away, Justin backs away without protest. He looks the interaction between the brothers from afar, then he follows them out of the bar, invisible. He finds Dean pressed against a wall, with Sam claiming his mouth in a possessive kiss.  
  
"Come on, I was just having fun," Dean says. "The idea of letting that man's hand touch me didn't cross my mind."  
  
"You're too drunk to distinguish between me and him," Sam scolds him, still keeping him against the wall. He's a few inches shorter than Dean, but he doesn't have problems in keeping his brother in place. Or maybe Dean likes it that way.  
  
Dean doesn't pass for a person who likes to be dominated, but maybe Sam is the only exception. The Trickster finds it funny and cute at the same time.  
  
"I'm not too drunk."  
  
"You're drunk." Silence. "You left hours ago."  
  
"You noticed?" Dean moves his head and he sobers up. "I thought you and dad were too focused on yelling at each other."  
  
Sam releases him but his back and shoulders are stiff. "He doesn't understand."  
  
"What's to understand?"  
  
"Dean, I want a normal life, I don't want to be a hunter! I want to go to college and I want to have a regular job!" Sam is almost exasperated.  
  
"Dad won't let you."  
  
Sam scoffs. "Yeah, like he could stop me."  
  
"What do you mean? You mean that one day I'm going to wake up and I'm not going to find you in your bunk? You'll leave and never turn back again?" Dean is angry and he takes a few steps away. Sam reaches for his arm and stops him.  
  
"I want you to come with me. I've already told you."  
  
Dean passes a hand over his face. "That isn’t my dream. It won't be my life. I can’t leave dad. He needs me."  
  
"Dad needs a perfect soldier that follows him like a puppy. Do you want to be that puppy?"  
  
"Sam, you better –"  
  
Sam raises his hands. "Dean, I just want you to think for yourself for a moment, and not think about _what dad would think_."  
  
Shadows of doubt pass over Dean's eyes and the Trickster looks at him with fascination.  
  
Dean looks like the type of person who would answer with 'I just want my family', but not aloud. Sam looks like the type of person too self-righteous to understand half of the things his brother leaves unsaid.  
  
"Let's go to the motel."  
  
It's almost sad seeing them walk away, so close and yet so far, with Fate looming over their lives without them knowing.  
  
  
  
  
***Dean***  
  
  
"There's a hunt in Minnesota. A witch." John welcomes his sons as soon as they step into the motel room they have been renting for the past couple of weeks. He's preparing his duffle bag, checking his guns and putting his journal in, giving his sons his back. "Ready to leave in ten minutes."  
  
Sam slams the door violently and Dean prepares himself for another fight. He rests his back against the wall, tipsy enough to have his head spinning without control. The chill air of the night sobered him up a little, so he's aware of the building tension in the room. He hates what will come next.  
  
There are no words for how much he hates how strained the relationship between his father and his brother has grown in the last couple of years. In the meantime, Dean is forced to play the same old spot during their fights: the buffer.  
  
But his position doesn't come with a real power. Dean is just the voice which joins the chorus uselessly, the voice both Sam and dad prefer to ignore, the voice that sometimes remains silent, while the fights between Sam and dad kills him inside, little by little, watching the wreckage of his family.  
  
"Dad, I start my SATs tomorrow," Sam's voice is low and for a moment, resembles to a man's voice, not a teenager’s. Sam is growing up so quickly and Dean's heart clenches every time he notices, because he knows that someday his words of leaving won't be just words anymore, but the decision of a full-grown man.  
  
John looks at Sam impatiently. "The witch has killed two men in the last week. I think that the lives of innocent people are more important than a stupid test, don't you think?"  
  
"How about I come and Sam can do his tests?" Dean interrupts them. "He's been preparing for his SAT’s for months."  
  
"He doesn't need an SAT," comments John. "And I need the help of both of you."  
  
"I want to take my SATs."  
  
"We'll take care of the witch by ourselves. The SATs will only last a couple of days," adds Dean, louder than Sam's protests and requests for trouble. "Then we can move state."  
  
John looks at his eldest son with disapproval. Dean is always the first to push Sam into obeying dad for trainings and hunts, but this time is different. There is no way Sam will bow his head and follow his dad when something as important as the SAT’s are concerned.  
  
John sneaks a glance at Sam, finding his face a stone cold expression of stubbornness and rebellion, then nods. "Be ready in ten, Dean." With those words, he leaves them and goes to the Impala.  
  
Dean stumbles to the room he shares with Sam, looking for his stuff.  
  
"I hate him."  
  
Dean snorts. "Don't be a brat."  
  
Sam hugs him from behind, blocking his arms. He's a couple of inches shorter than Dean, so he can puts his face against Dean's back.  
  
"Sam –"  
  
"Will you think about what I asked you?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"If you come with me –"  
  
"No," Dean pushes him away. "Dad needs me. And he needs you. End of discussion."  
  
Sam has a hurt expression on his face, like Dean has rejected him. Funny, considering it's the other way around. "He can do fine by himself."  
  
"We're a family, Sam."  
  
"It doesn't mean we're conjoined twins! I know you wanted to be different from a hunter –"  
  
"That was long ago," Dean regrets confessing to Sam that he wanted to be a mechanic and work with cars when he was little. It was a stupid weakness and Sam jumped on it like it was a life vest because Dean doesn't talk about his hopes and dreams and Sam is sneaky enough to hold that small confession like it is a fucking big deal.  
  
"If you had the chance, wouldn't you take it?"  
  
"What? The chance to settle down, have a family and be a regular Mary Sunshine?"  
  
"I'm not talking about a family." Sam scrunches his nose, like the idea of Dean starting a family is something disdainful. Right. Because Dean is Sam's . And it's true. Sam is his whole world. "I'm talking about living your own life for once."  
  
Dean sighs. "Sam, stop it. I'm not changing my mind."  
  
"Even for me?"  
  
Dean doesn't answer, but he kisses Sam’s chapped lips, with his eyes closed. He doesn't want Sam to see how much he means to him and how much he's heartbroken at the idea of splitting the family apart. On the other hand, Dean doesn't think he is capable of denying anything to Sam.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
The following days are blurred in Dean's mind. It's like he was involved in a train wreck and his body bears the signs of it in the most fastidious ways.  
  
Dean can smell an aseptic smell that only belongs to infirmaries and hospitals and that's his first clue to push him to trying to understand where he is and how he got there, because sure as hell, his last vivid memory is his last encounter with Sam.  
  
He remembers bits and pieces, like the drive to Minnesota in the comfortable passenger seat of his dear Impala, or some of the interviews with locals, then screams of a woman and the most excruciating pain he felt in whole his life.  
  
Dean tries to open his eyes, groaning. He hates pain pills, he hates how they affect his head and how uncomfortable is to swallow his saliva down. Judging from the difficulty that he has when he tries to open his eyes and the sleepiness, there are definitely pain pills in his system. He tries to remember what brought him there, but nothing sparks his memory, only a dark tunnel made of pieces of a puzzle too difficult to put together.  
  
"Dad... Sam..."  
  
His voice is low and raspy, but it's enough to make someone move beside him and call his name. "Dean!" Sam. Sam is okay. "Doctor! Doctor! Please, someone!"  
  
Sam. The same drama queen as always.  
  
"Where's dad?" The lights are hurting his eyes. He tries to move but a sharp stab of pain hits his stomach. Sam's hand is warm over his forehead.  
  
"Don't strain yourself, Dean."  
  
"Is dad okay?"  
  
"I'm here, Dean."  
  
Oh, thank fuck.  
  
He let the sleep have the best of him. Dad is fine, Sam is here. Dean can return to sleep, now.  
  
"Fucking witch," he groans, coughing a little.  
  
Dad chuckles somewhere by his side. "Yes, son, fuck the witch. Now rest. I took care of that woman."  
  
  
  
***The Trickster***  
  
  
The Trickster sits on the empty chair beside the bed used by John just a couple of minutes ago, invisible to every human in the hospital room. He looks as the doctor and a couple of nurses check on Dean while his family looks worriedly at him in a corner of the room.  
  
The Trickster relaxes in his seat. The hunt John and Dean did in Minnesota was just an excuse to take care of his personal plans, since Sam's arrival at the bar interrupted him.  
  
The Trickster led them to Minnesota to hunt down a witch who _apparently_ killed two homeless men who went to her to buy spells. Nothing like that happened for real. Everything was set up.  
  
The Trickster was the witch they fought and when he spotted the right moment and the right angle he threw _the_ spell towards Dean before John ganked him. Of course, nothing could kill a Trickster, so here he is, looking at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes with curiosity, especially when Sam returns to Dean's side, snagging a caress when John speaks to the doctor.  
  
"Take that, Father," the Trickster whispers, with a voice lower than the air, grinning. "No Apocalypse. No troubles. Nothing to change the world you abandoned long ago. No Righteous Man needs to rise."  
  
It doesn't pass in his mind that maybe it's too early to determine that. Fate doesn't like to be changed.


	2. Chapter 2

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
***Dean***  
  
  
Three weeks have passed since that hunt in Minnesota and Dean has healed completely. He still has to take it slow so dad took off for another hunt by himself, leaving his sons alone with the room paid and a couple of bucks for food. Sam has finished his SATs and he looks suspiciously nervous, checking his email continuously, while taking care of Dean.  
  
Dean was put on bed rest after his discharge from the hospital and Sam has shown every intention to follow doctor's orders to the letter. Of course Dean has no desire to be kept like a pretty doll and pampered by his little brother. In the end, they reach a compromise: Dean wouldn't hunt for a couple of weeks and Sam wouldn't bitch too much when his brother roams around the room.  
  
The compromise is perfect, because sex is a huge part of it. Usually they switch fucking each other, but in that week, Sam was the top, fucking Dean over and over, careful not to tire him out too much. When that does happen – because, fuck, Sam is still a 24/7 horny teenager and Dean is still a demanding little bitch when it comes to sex –, they rest in each other arms, in a bed too small that reeks of sweat, without worrying about their father coming and finding them.  
  
It's the first time they actually enjoy spending this intimate time together, cuddling like a normal couple, after the sex. Usually their encounters are quick, for the fear of their father bursting through the door or leaving any indications of their activities. Sam tried to romance Dean a couple of times, but his attempts are usually mocked by Dean.  
  
However, now it's different.  
  
They fall asleep in each other arms, naked, skin on skin, careless of everything. It's something both Dean and Sam haven't experienced at all, and something that both of them secretly long for. No-one is rejecting the sense of peaceful happiness that comes with dad's departure, not when it means that in a couple of weeks or days they may be travelling to another state, deep in another dangerous hunt.  
  
But on the other side, despite enjoying the moments shared with Sam, Dean's hands are itching from the prolonged rest and the absence of hunts. That's why Dean would be never suited for a normal life.  
  
"It should be like this every time," says Sam when they are resting after another round in the middle of the afternoon. His head is over Dean's chest, an arm around his waist, their legs tangled together.  
  
Dean has closed his eyes and has absently nodded, perfectly relaxed. There is something extremely precious in this, sacred, and Dean feels almost blessed to have this.  
  
Sometimes, especially in days like these, Dean understands Sam's desire for normality with painstakingly clarity. Sam doesn't remember the time they had a roof over their heads, a house to come home to, lovely parents and food made from scratch on the table. Dean sometimes relives the memories of a lost childhood. It's usually during his dreams, when the fantasy collides with the memories of a little kid who thought that his little world was perfect.  
  
Sam doesn't remember any of that. He's trying to find his own normalcy in the things he has learnt to know through his interactions with his peers in school. Fueled up with the absence of a stable home and a happy childhood, Sam is desperate to find his place in the world, the only obstacle for the realisation of his dreams is his dad's stubbornness.  
  
Dean is different.  
  
In some sort of warped way he just holds to the idea of having his family together is the only way to happiness. Sam cannot screw this up, Dean will make sure of that, because family is the only thing important in their life, even if it's fucked up like that.  
  
"Sam –"  
  
"I've got accepted to Stanford with a full scholarship."  
  
Silence.  
  
Dean sits down on the bed, startled like he's received a cold shower. He stares down at Sam's expectant eyes and at the bottom lip trapped between his teeth.  
  
"You – _what_?!"  
  
"I rent a postal box in town and yesterday I received the acceptance letter." Sam says the sentence fast, like he's expecting Dean to burst.  
  
Dean opens and closes his mouth a few times before swallowing his disappointment and anger in the deep of his chest. He turns his back to Sam and starts dressing up, ready to bolt to the door and going to some bar, drinking his ass off. "Great. You should be happy, that's exactly what you wanted all along, right?"  
  
"Dean –" Sam sits up too and puts a hand over his shoulder, trying to turn him around. "Listen –"  
  
"Fucking congratulations, Sammy. All the best."  
  
"Can you let me explain for a moment?"  
  
"Explain what? You decided. You sent the application. You got accepted. End of the story. Good luck telling dad."  
  
"Dean," Sam sighs and wraps his arms around his knees. He looks like a normal teenager, not the man that made the most difficult decision of his life. Or not. Sam has been singing that song for too long, it's Dean who doesn't understand, who hates the situation and considers it preposterous. But for Sam? That decision smelled of freedom, victory and excitement. He didn't even think of telling Dean, and, damn, Dean thought that they shared everything.  
  
He turns around, looking at his little brother.  
  
Sam's hair is a little longer than usual and his bangs are shadowing his forehead, almost touching his eyelashes. Dean feels his heart clench in his chest. He cannot believe Sam sent the application without telling him. He cannot believe he _actually_ did it.  
  
He lost Sammy.  
  
"Dean, this is what I always wanted. Going to college is my dream. I want to study law and graduate, living a normal college life, working a normal job, living in a real house that I can call home." The voice is serious, low and calm. Dean stops, he doesn't move, he listens to him and suffers silently. "They offered me a full scholarship, Dean. They believe in me. I want to have a normal life. I want to go. Please, don't be mad at me."  
  
Dean should have known better. He should have known that one day Sam would make his decisions by himself and he would leave him behind because they wanted different things. Dean cannot think about living a normal life, knowing what's out there, lurking in the dark, attacking and killing innocent people. Sam is capable of separating his life from the hunting lifestyle, but Dean isn't.  
  
For some part, Dean is not surprised. Sam wouldn't stay with them forever. This is his best chance to get away from hunting. And, damn, Dean is proud of his little brother, acing all his tests and gaining a scholarship for a kick-ass university. Even if this means Sam is going to be far away.  
  
Dean passes a hand over his face and sighs. "I'm mad you didn't tell me sooner. I don't want you to go, dad needs both of us, but if it's your dream – Sam, I –"  
  
Sam hugs him, kissing his jaw, cheeks and lips. He understands the words Dean hasn't vocalised because he feels the same, desperate and overwhelming love for Dean. The idea of a separation is painful, something that both of them cannot wrap their minds around. It's always been Sam and Dean against the world.  
  
"Come with me." Sam asks him again, almost desperately. Nails are scratching Dean's arm. "Come with me, Dean."  
  
"You're not seriously asking me to choose between you and dad, right?" Dean chokes out with raspy voice.  
  
"Leave dad to his own devices." Sam's voice is cold and full of jealousy. "Let him have his vengeance. But you, you can –"  
  
"That demon killed our mother."  
  
"You think that doesn't bother me!" Sam exclaims. "But we cannot live all our lives around his. We need to move on. Come with me, you can take on occasional hunts. We'll live together, we'll be fine together. Dad is so consumed by his search for revenge he stopped living. Don't let him pull you into this. Leave with me."  
  
Dean shakes his head. "I'm not leaving dad without back-up."  
  
Sam moves his hands away. Dean cannot see his face because he's giving him his back, but he can see that Sam is trying is best to hide anger.  
  
"We'll phone each other," proposes Dean, trying to lighten up the mood. "You leaving for college doesn't mean we have to be strangers."  
  
Sam kisses him hard and dirty. He pushes him on the bed, undressing him without really caring about the clothes, throwing them in every angle of the room. "We're not saying goodbye. We're still good as before. Just let me live my life."  
  
"I will, and you have to let me choose mine," answers Dean, sucking his bottom lip, staring him in the eyes.  
  
Sam smiles and his dimples show. "I will," he promises. "We're still Dean and Sam against the world. Nothing changed."  
  
Sam frames Dean's face with his large hands and kisses him slow and full of love. The fear, the anger and the disappointment are still popping in Dean's chest, but there's also the hope that he hasn't lost his brother and lover.  
  
Sam is wrong, though. Things will change, but they will cope.  
  
"You have to tell dad," adds Dean.  
  
Sam groans and breaks the kiss. "Why kill the moment?"  
  
"I'm serious, Sammy. As soon as possible."  
  
"I know. I'll do that," nods Sam, resuming in their kiss. This time is more demanding, aggressive, like he wants to eat alive Dean or part of him to keep it with him when he will be far away. Like he's not believing at his own words about keeping in contact.  
  
"Hurry up,” Dean encouraged.  
  
Sam prepares him quickly, inserting two fingers into his hole to open him up and working them. Then, he fucks him with his cock, making Dean writhe in the sheets in pleasure, abandoned completely to the sensations and the lust Sam makes him feel. Their kisses are almost like bites, nails scratch shoulders and backs, leaving dark pink marks behind, and the whole fucking resembles more the goodbye they didn't want to bid each other.  
  
The love and the affection are overwhelming and when they come, almost together, they spend a long time staring in each other's eyes, breathing hard, saying 'I love you' over and over in silence.  
  
In the end, Sam lays down at Dean's side, kissing his lips once. Dean kisses him back, then throws an arm around his shoulders and keeps him in place, where he wants to keep his brother forever, far from the demons and the problems of the world.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"How could you, Sammy?"  
  
Neither of them thought that telling dad would be simple, but the matter slipped through their hands completely.  
  
John came back one week after Sam confessed to Dean his little device, pulling Sam and Dean away from their renewed sense of intimacy. They have passed the days fucking in every angle of the house, eating junk food in front of the television and pranking each other, feeling the pressure of the next encounter with dad. Basically avoiding the issue. Dean is more than fine with it, considering he's not what people call a chick-flick moment type of person, but Sam tried to tackle the issue from time to time. Dean shot him down, distracting him with bites and kisses.  
  
When John returns, Sam doesn't lose time and tells him about his application to Stanford straight away, without giving him the time to rest after the hunt.  
  
"What do you mean 'how could I'?" Sam repeats those words with anger. "It's my life! I can do what the hell I want!"  
  
"You're a hunter, Sam, not some civilian –"  
  
"We're not soldiers, dad! Dean and I are your sons, not your comrades, not your puppies. We have our own ideas."  
  
John turns to Dean. "You knew about this?"  
  
Dean looks like he's shrinking under John's gaze, but he keeps up the good façade. "He told me, yeah."  
  
"And you haven't told him how stupid he is?"  
  
"No," answers Sam for Dean. "Dean understands."  
  
John's face is a mask of anger and disappointment. "So you managed to brainwash your brother? I always knew you're weak Dean."  
  
Dean doesn't reply, but Sam jumps up in his defense. "There's nothing weak in –"  
  
John stops him, tired of his sons protecting each other. "Have you two forgotten that a demon have killed your mother?"  
  
"No we haven't, since you've been dragging us into this hunt since forever."  
  
"Sammy –"  
  
"I want to go to Stanford. And I will."  
  
Dean watches his brother and his father face each other with the same anger on their faces.  
  
"Then go," says in the end John, with a stone cold voice. "But if you're leaving, you don't come back."  
  
"What, dad, –"  
  
"Shut up, Dean."  
  
Dean closes his mouth immediately and stares, almost frozen, the scene in front of him. Surely dad is serious, but –  
  
John comes closer to Sam, one finger pointing to his chest. "If you're leaving, you don't come back."  
  
If Sam is heartbroken at the threat, he doesn't show it. "Then I guess this is a goodbye."  
  
Dean opens his mouth to stop that madness, but dad anticipates him. "If you walk that door, don't you dare come back."  
  
Sam's voice is as stern as John’s. "Don't worry, I have no intention of it."  
  
Dean remains still while Sam storms out and gets to their room, probably to put together his things. John looks at Dean with so much disappointment that Dean's heart sinks in his chest. There is only so much he can take and the idea of his family splitting is hard enough without having to deal with dad's disappointment and disapproval at his own decisions.  
  
"Dad, Sam just wants to –"  
  
"We're hunters, Dean," replies John. "If your brother doesn't want to live this life, he's free to go, but for my part, I only have one son and that is you. Are you going to be a good boy or not?"  
  
"Yes, sir." The words are automatic and suits him. He can wrap himself around the relief that clearly transpires in his dad's eyes, but not for long.  
  
Sam is in the doorway with his backpack and he's staring at Dean like he has betrayed him. But he quickly crosses the room, standing right in front of his brother.  
  
"Come with me, Dean."  
  
"Dean, don't you dare –"  
  
But Dean shakes his head before he can formulate the words. "I'm staying, Sam." _'You know, bud, we talked about this'_. He wants to add that even though dad has forbidden Sam to come back that doesn't mean that they should not talk to each other, but Sam's words anticipate him.  
  
-"Then this is a goodbye for us too."  
  
With those words, followed by John's last yells, Sam walks out from their lives.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
"Sounds like we've got a Trickster on our hands," says John, putting down the phone.  
  
It has been two months since Sam left them and no matter how many times Dean tries to contact him, the little bitch doesn't answer any of his calls. Sam refused to talk to him, leaving their relationship in as much strain as with dad's. Even more complicated, Dean is missing not just his brother but his lover, but the person he cared for all his life. It's like having a dark hole planted into his chest that burns his heart and mind.  
  
Dean fiddles with his cell, considering calling Sam again just to leave another voicemail, but dad distracts him by telling him details about another case.  
  
"Tricksters are really sons of a bitch."  
  
New case, new town. The silence left by the absence of Sam's small acts of rebellion, by his snarky comments and his stubborn silence when John yelled at him makes Dean's stomach churn.  
  
He nods absently. Dad started to act like Dean is some sort of burden sometimes, like after the whole Sam's debacle he cannot trust him completely. The idea of being partners doesn't even cross dad's mind, let alone the idea that Dean has something to say or something to add during the hunts. It's like he's blaming Dean for Sam's departure.  
  
There is no doubt that Sam's absence is affecting dad – Sam has always been the favourite son, the little boy that everyone has to protect against all evils –, but he doesn't show anything on the outside, he prefers unload the tension giving Dean his rougher side.  
  
"I'm going to take a leak," says Dean, opening the door of the Impala. The service station is almost in the middle of nowhere, they stopped there for a couple of hours for gas and food, there is only one other car in the parking lot.  
  
"Get a move on."  
  
Dean closes the door and goes to the dirty bathroom. He battles with himself for a little while before rolling his eyes and deciding to give one last try. He presses the talk button of his phone and brings it to his ear, listening to it to ring. This time it doesn't happen.  
  
A mechanical voice alerts him that the number is out of order. For a moment, Dean wonders if he has dialed the wrong number, but it is impossible, dad made sure his sons knew all their cell numbers by heart and Dean has dialed the same number for a considerable amount of days since Sam left them.  
  
There is only one answer: Sam de-activated his number.  
  
The reality punches Dean in the face. Damn. It's true then. It's over. Sam turns the page and Dean is not part of any small fragment of his present life.  
  
The nausea is plaguing him and now that Sam has made his decision, it gets stronger and stronger to the point that Dean puts a hand against the wall and pukes his guts out. After that, he feels a little better and stumbles towards the sink, washing his mouth and refreshing his face. When he looks at his reflection in the mirror, he sees a young man who hasn't slept properly in months.  
  
So - Sam cancelled him from his apple pie life without even giving him the chance to try something. Fine.  
  
"I'm so fucking tired of this."  
  
He smashes the cell against the wall, looking with curiosity the black pieces scattered all over the stained floor. A man enters in that moment and looks at the mess.  
  
"Rough day, buddy?"  
  
Fuck Sam. Fuck that self-righteous bitch that left him behind. Fuck Sam. Fuck dad. Fuck everything.  
  
"Nothing that can't be fixed."  
  
The man grins and Dean tastes again the sensation of fullness inside of him. This time it’s not Sam, but, fuck, who cares. A man has needs. And Dean is fucking tired of being dad and Sam's punching ball.  
  
The fuck is rough and quick, with Dean pressed against the wall, legs spread as much as the jeans pooled around his ankles allow him, and the clapping of Dean's ass and the stranger's balls against each other in the silence of an otherwise empty and quiet bathroom. This doesn't have a fucking drop of intimacy, but damn, Dean is not looking for dining and wining, just a quick fuck to scratch the itch and fill the void left by the departure of his Sammy.  
  
When Dean is left alone in the bathroom again, he pukes in the sink another time. This time, when he looks at his reflection in the mirror, he cannot stand looking at his facial features and the disgust blossom in his chest.  
  
The cell is still on the floor, broken and useless, but Dean doesn't pay any attention to it. He walks away from the bathroom and he finds his father in the Impala, impatiently waiting for him. He doesn't ask what took him so long, he just doesn't care, and Dean slams the Impala door while John switches it on and leaves the service station.  
  
Fuck Sam. Dean is fucking done with him.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
This should be the most difficult hunt they stumble across.  
  
Tricksters are demi-gods, capable of creating things out of thin air and they use that power to humble self-righteous people (or, as Dean calls them, 'dicks') with deadly pranks.  
  
The only way to kill one of them is with a stake dipped in the blood of one of their victims. The problem is the Trickster could be anyone. Literally.  
  
After a couple of days spent in town, one death of an outside-looking pristine professor – who apparently cheated on his wife on a regular basis with his female students, a frat boy put in line after an encounter with aliens – who made him slow dance. Dean starts to really like the Trickster's sense of humor – and a researcher who drove test animals killed by what it seems an alligator, John and Dean have finally found their guy; the janitor of the college.  
  
Dad planned everything. Now, they both watch him closely since he entered in the college building and when he starts switching off the lights, they are on the move. Dad decided to wait 'til the end of his shift to surprise him with a stake driven through his heart.  
  
They move swiftly towards the locker room, but soft music catches their attention. It comes from the auditorium. They change direction, they open the doors and they find the janitor sitting on one uncomfy chair while looking at two sexy semi-naked women kissing each other on a posh bed on stage. It looks like some kind of remake of a Casa Erotica flick.  
  
"Oh, hello, Winchesters," says the Trickster. He's giving them his back but from the tone of voice it doesn't seem a little bit preoccupied. "Want to join the show? Take this as a peace offering."  
  
Dean snorts, but he's amused. For some part, he likes his sense of humor. He doesn't condone the killings, but, hey, the guy has style. Slow dancing aliens for a dick frat boy who put pledges under the most humiliating tests to join the fraternity? Seems fair.  
  
"Do you really think we're going to take it?" John answers, keeping the Trickster under the threat of his gun. He gives Dean a nod with his head, motioning him to descend carefully for the stairs, cautious not to let the Trickster see the big stake Dean is carrying and hiding behind his back.  
  
The Trickster turns around and looks at them with thoughtful eyes. "No, not really."  
  
A moment after the two sexy women are fighting against John and Dean, knocking them up against the near wall. The bitches are strong as a wendigo and even a couple of bullets in their chest don't stop them from punching the life out of both of them. One of the women is one step away from kicking Dean's stomach when she stops. Dean looks at her and stands up. The other woman is also still as a salt statue, so is dad.  
  
"What the fuck –"  
  
"Don't worry, Dean, I just stopped them so we can talk for a few minutes without being interrupted." The Trickster is in front of Dean, still in his janitor clothes, with a big cat-like smile on his face.  
  
"Talk?"  
  
"I know you. I know your dad. I know people like you. You and your father managed to almost catch me, good job, your reputation is completely earned."  
  
"What the hell do you want, because, dude, even if I dig your style, you kill people. And I have no intention of letting you go." His hand tightens the grip on the stake.  
  
The Trickster laughs. "Oh please, Dean. You know, I like you, so I'll reveal a secret." He points at the stake. "That won't kill me. I'm immortal."  
  
"Oh really? How about I try to stick this through your heart?"  
  
The Trickster opens his arms, still smiling like this is one, big, fat joke. "By all means, please do. I've always known you're a believe-it-when-I–see-it kind of guy."  
  
Dean plunges the stake in to the Trickster's chest, but nothing happens. The Trickster doesn't even change expression. "Feel better now?"  
  
"Fuck." Dean doesn't know what else to say. He gives a quick glance to his dad, who is still immobilized in the act of fighting a sexy illusion. "So what? You stop them, you want to talk, you let me stake you and now? I'm dead meat?"  
  
"No, I told you. I want to talk to you." The Trickster snaps his fingers and the stake disappears from his chest to appear again at Dean's feet. "Without interruptions."  
  
Dean has nothing to lose. "So talk."  
  
"It's the second time we have met." The Trickster leans on one of the seats, folding his arms to his chest. "The first time was in Minnesota, almost two months ago. You and John hunted a witch."  
  
"You're following us?"  
  
"No, _I_ was the witch."  
  
"You were the witch." Dean acts confused.  
  
"Yes, your dad killed me, yadda-yadda-yadda. I threw a spell at you, remember?"  
  
Of course Dean remembers. The spell, along with the hard throw against the wall, put him on bed rest for weeks. The spell, though, didn't have any effects on him, no matter how much dad and Sam researched for those words. Dad also asked advice of Pastor Jim, just to be sure. In the end, they figured that the spell wasn't finished or the death of the witch prevented the spell from having consequences.  
  
Now, of course, the tables are turned.  
  
"What did you do to me?"  
  
"Just a little equipment spell."  
  
"What the fuck does it mean?"  
  
"I made you capable of bearing human lives inside of you." The Trickster points to Dean's stomach. "I made you capable of being pregnant."  
  
Crap.  
  
Dean shakes his head and laughs. "Yeah, right. I did my research on Tricksters. You don't tell the truth. You prank people."  
  
"Well, I was sincere about the stake," the Trickster points it out. "You're not one of my targets. I have no reason to prank you. Come on, Dean, haven't you noticed something _unusual_ in the last couple of weeks?"  
  
Dean opens his mouth to give a snarky reply but a thought crosses his mind. It's been a few weeks since he started to puke methodically every morning. Dad thought it was the consequence of all the junk food Dean is forced to eat, and Dean doesn't want to worry him, so he hides his discomfort every time he's around smelly food.  
  
Then his jeans started to be a little too tight around the waistband. Which is a nonsense considering he's puking everything that passes through his lips on a regular basis. What about the exhaustion that sometimes catches him in the evenings or after a hunt? Or the dizziness that hits him more often than usual?  
  
"Men can't get pregnant."  
  
"You can," replies the Trickster. "I made it possible for you."  
  
" _Why_?"  
  
"I had a plan in mind," the Trickster shrugs and for the first time he looks a little baffled, out of place. Whatever plan he had in mind, he didn't have a full victory or he will be gloating.  
  
"I'm one of your victims."  
  
"Not quite." The Trickster stands up. "Listen, I wanted to meet you again and tell you this. Oh, and to warn you that you're almost two months pregnant, of course, in case you haven't connected the dots, yet."  
  
Dean stares at him blankly.  
  
"Because, _of course_ you haven't connected the dots yet."  
  
"Oh fuck."  
  
"There we go."  
  
Dean tries very hard not to touch his stomach. It seems too surreal, having a fucking conversation with the Trickster about some sort of 'plan' where the fucking bastard has made it possible for him to be... no, it cannot be.  
  
Even though... the symptoms check out. Dean doesn't know a thing about pregnancy, but the nausea, the dizziness and the little problem of his jeans have now an answer. A crazy, fucked-up answer, but still. He's a hunter, he’s seen crappy things all his life.  
  
But... a pregnancy?  
  
"Breathe, Dean-o, we don't want you to hyperventilate, right?" The Trickster's hand is on his shoulder and a warm feeling spread through his shoulder to his chest. The breath evens and Dean feels the dizziness fading away. "If you still don't believe me, take some tests."  
  
"Why did you do this to me?"  
  
The Trickster's face saddens suddenly. His agenda may be hidden, but Dean knows that the Trickster is not faking his sadness.  
  
"I thought I gave you a chance. But I won't give up. I'll watch over you, Dean Winchester, I swear." His golden-hazel eyes lighten up and for some reason Dean doesn't detect a lie. "Now, stake me again and I'll set you free."  
  
"My dad –"  
  
"He's going to be fine."  
  
The Trickster snaps his fingers, the women attack John, but Dean is faster. He stakes the trickster through his chest. The demi-god widens his eyes, opens his mouth and the whole scenario of Casa Erotica vanishes, including the two sexy amazons. The Trickster lies at Dean's feet, apparently dead.  
  
John puts a hand over Dean's shoulder. "Good job, boy. Now let's take of him and let's get out of here."  
  
Dean swallows down his bile and tries not to act strangely.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
When dad goes on a food run, Dean goes to the nearest drug store and buys some pregnancy tests. He pees on them, he checks and he cusses when all of them give him positive answers.  
  
Tentatively, Dean touches his stomach. It's still flat, but not as much as a month before. There's a life inside of him.  
  
Frantically, he calculates the time and tries to single out his baby’s daddy. There is no doubt it is Sam's. The only other possible father could be the man in the bathroom at the service station, but the Trickster said that Dean is almost two months pregnant, so there's only Sam on the list. Well, there was only Sam when they were still together.  
  
Fuck. Dean is pregnant with a small life that he and Sam created without knowing.  
  
He wonders what Sam would say if Dean appeared at the doorway of his house, breaking the news. But no, Dean cannot do that. Sam made quite clear that he wants a normal life, he wants to study, work, live his college life. He said goodbye to Dean. He didn't return his calls, he changed his number. He left him.  
  
On the other hand, Dean has no idea how to tell dad. He fears that he will consider the baby as some sort of supernatural creature – and Dean is not sure that it isn't – and push him to kill it. But, if there is the slim chance the baby is a human baby, _his_ baby, Dean has no intention of risking telling dad.  
  
But dad maybe knows who to consult, what to do.  
  
Dean looks at the door, waiting for dad to come back. There is no chance he could continue to hunt, either. He cannot take the risk of losing it.  
  
He wonders how it is possible to have his life turned upside down completely in a couple of minutes. He tries to understand how is it possible to grow so attached to a fetus that has been conceived with his brother after a spell made by a supernatural creature. This baby could be anything. Dean cannot trust a Trickster.  
  
The fucking Trickster may have not lied about the pregnancy, but Dean shouldn't feel so protective of something that is growing inside of him in the most unnatural way.  
  
His thoughts run to Sam again. A supernatural pregnancy is not something he can bring into Sam's life now. He taps his fingers on the knee, impatiently, struggling between the desire of going to Stanford and tell everything to Sam or tell dad instead, who still hasn't the dumbest idea his sons fucked each other.  
  
"Fuck."  
  
In the end, he doesn't follow through either of his plans.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
The first thing Dean does is research about pregnancy and stuff like that. He steals a couple of books from the library and hides them along with the prenatal vitamins he steals from a drug store. He stops eating diner food and starts to eat healthier. Dad makes a couple of remarks, but doesn’t really investigate. There are some suspicious looks when Dean gives up his usual black coffee and beer, but Dean starts buying root beer instead of the normal one.  
  
Weeks pass and Dean hasn't said a word to anyone. He's almost to the point of running away to avoid hunts, when dad gives him the best way out.  
  
Without beating about the bush, dad just hands the keys of the Impala and says that he can take of himself and hunt alone, now, and he wants to split hunts to cover more territory.  
  
For a moment a sense of abandonment sinks Dean’s heart. He should feel full of pride to finally be acknowledged as a hunter who can take care of his own hunts, but, in reality, Dean has the clear feeling that dad is doing this just because he wants him out of his hair.  
  
He knows he hasn’t been the best partner in last few weeks. With the idea of his pregnancy, the morning sickness and the thousand precautions he took to hide his new 'status', Dean isn't at his best. Or maybe he just mopes too much since Sam's gone and even dad is tired of him.  
  
"You're going to be fine," says John scruffily, closing his journal.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
It's not the first time Dean feels like a burden. The freedom dad is giving him resembles too much of a punishment, instead of a prize. There is no pride in his eyes when he handed him the keys of the Impala, instead he looks unfocused, like his head is somewhere else and he's kicking out Dean because he cannot bring good to their partnership. Or the absence of it, anyway.  
  
This hurts.  
  
The void left by Sam increases and Dean feels like he's alone.  
  
Well, he's not completely alone. It's him and the _baby_ now.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
John avoids the question, and orders instead. "You're going to Sioux Falls, Bobby Singer wants some help with the hunt of a poltergeist."  
  
 _So, still daddy's soldier,_ says a little voice inside Dean's head that resembles too much of Sam's.  
  
On the other hand, Bobby Singer seems the solutions to all Dean's problems. He's the perfect researcher and Dean can trust him. Bobby won't tell dad. Not when the last memory he has of him is Bobby Singer taking aim with his shotgun to try to shoot John.  
  
Dean wonders briefly if he can really take the chance and trust somebody else; Sam left him, dad is putting him behind, does Dean really have a choice, anyway? He needs to have answers after what the Trickster said, and the help from someone who was in the business of killing monsters is exactly what Dean needs.  
  
"How come Bobby asked for your help? Last time he chased you away from the yard with a shotgun."  
  
John chuckles. "Ellen from the Roadhouse passed the message. She thought it would be fun if I, among all the people she knew, show up at Singer's doorstep."  
  
"Sounds like she's one hell of a woman," comments Dean, fiddling with the key of the Impala. He wanted so much to have the Impala, but now that dad gave her to him, there's only a sense of loss and the anxiety churning in his chest.  
  
"You don't look as excited as I thought," comments John, folding the newspaper. He looks closely at his eldest and at the keys in his hands.  
  
"No, I am."  
  
"Don't scratch her."  
  
"I won't, dad."  
  
He's in the Impala a couple of minutes later, looking at his father's rental car making its way out of town.  
  
"Hello Dean-o."  
  
Dean looks at the passenger seat and he finds the Trickster comfortably sitting there. He sneaks a glance to the glove compartment where his gun is, but doesn't make his move yet.  
  
"Don't even think about ganking me. It will ruin the upholstery." The Trickster warns him like he's reading his mind. "And it's useless, if you remember what I am."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"I told you, I'll watch over you." The Trickster explains with simple words, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. He snaps his fingers and a lollipop appears, he starts immediately to suck it noisily, like a kid.  
  
"Bullshit. You put me in this situation. You owe me an explanation."  
  
The Trickster looks like he's thinking hard about that possibility. "Yes, I think it's fair."  
  
"So, why me? Why did you fuck me up with _this_?"  
  
"I cannot tell you yet."  
  
Dean tries very hard not to jump on the Trickster and strangle him. "You said –"  
  
"I said I'm not going to tell you, _yet_." The Trickster points out. "But I will."  
  
"Then when?"  
  
"When your little bundle of joy is six months old I'll tell you." The Trickster responds.  
  
A doubt inserts in his mind. When Sam was six months old, a demon killed their mother.  
  
"Will the dem–"  
  
The Trickster turns his head towards him, his golden eyes seems brighter, full of power and Dean instantly asks himself why the hell he's talking to a demi-god instead of ganking him like he's supposed to do. Then, of course, he remembered that he hasn't the slightest idea how to kill him permanently.  
  
"No, he won't." The Trickster responds with a serious voice. It seems like a promise and Dean cannot help to ask himself for the hundredth time why this creature is so willing to help him and his baby. "The demon won't touch either you or the baby. He won't know anything. I'll make sure of it."  
  
"Demons have their ways."  
  
"I'm almost a god, Dean-o, do you really think that a lowlife demon will overpower me?" Then the Trickster's eyes lose the spark of amusement. He looks pensive. "I'm not surprised you have trust issues."  
  
Dean hates to be psychoanalyzed, especially from a supernatural creature. "Oh right. I'm in my car with the fucking Trickster who made me pregnant and I'm supposed to act all fine and dandy?"  
  
"First of all, I didn't _make_ you pregnant. Your little brother knocked you up. I just made you capable of bearing lives. There's a big difference here. Second, you're not supposed to act fine and dandy, even if you're taking the whole I'm-a-male-pregnant pretty well, but you're supposed to hear me out."  
  
"How do you know my brother is the father?"  
  
"Duh, I took special interest in your family. I know that you and your little brother fucked each other."  
  
Dean cringes at those words. "Why so curious about us?"  
  
"I'm going to tell you when the baby is six months old."  
  
Dean is frustrated with all that shit. "No. You tell me something now or you can go to hell."  
  
"You don't have a lot of options, Dean-o," gloats the Trickster. "Your daddy is buried deep in his own devices and the baby daddy is enjoying his college life. I imagine you're not keen to warn either of them, or you would have done it already. Am I right?"  
  
"Yes," answers Dean reluctantly. "But it doesn't mean I don't have other resources."  
  
"Bobby Singer, you mean?" The Trickster looks as frustrated as Dean. "Okay. Listen, I want to help you. You don't trust me, fine."  
  
"It would help knowing something."  
  
The Trickster remains silent for couple of seconds, in the end he sighs. "Fine. I'll tell you why I made you capable of being pregnant."  
  
"It would help," comments snarky Dean, but he's all ears.  
  
"I'm one of the good guys, Dean."  
  
"Let me decide that."  
  
The Trickster mutters something under his breath that resembles a lot to 'fucking Winchesters', then moves in his seat, uncomfortable. He looks at the sky, like he's searching for an answer.  
  
"There is a prophecy about your family, Dean Winchester. It is said that one day a Righteous Man will rise from the pit of Hell and will start an apocalypse. It is said that a boy demon, a Winchester, will open the cage to unleash Lucifer on Earth."  
  
Crap.  
  
The Winchesters had hunts regarding every kind of supernatural creature, but this? This is a freaking new level of insanity.  
  
"What?"  
  
The Trickster is still looking at the sky. "I did what I thought it was right. Giving you and your brother a son, giving the both of you something else to look at and to live for was the only way I thought to keep the prophecy at bay and change Fate." He sighs, fiddling with his almost finished lollipop. "But things went differently and maybe my efforts won't be enough. That's why I want to look after you. You and your unborn child will be, luckily, the only way to change your destiny."  
  
Dean rests his back against the leather seat, trying to process the news. "Where did you learn about this prophecy? A witch?"  
  
"Witches don't make prophecies. What kind of hunter are you?" The Trickster gives him a crooked smile. "I heard it from a prophet of the Lord, of course."  
  
"You believe to this crap?"  
  
"Yes. And you should too."  
  
"Fuck."  
  
The Trickster makes the lollipop disappear. "Look, I burned my cover for you," Dean looks at him with full attention. "I wasn't supposed to tell this to you, but I did."  
  
"What do you mean 'your cover'?"  
  
The Trickster shrugs. "Let's say I'm in witness protection. I care about my anonymity. I blew up everything today."  
  
"From whom you're supposed to hide from?"  
  
The Trickster looks away from the sky. "You don't need to know. I've already told you too much for yours and mine own good."  
  
Dean weighs his possibilities. He doesn't have much in his hands. Just a prophecy revealed by a Trickster, a baby he needs to protect and nothing more.  
  
The weight of what the Trickster has said to him lays on his chest, heavy and restricting. Fear makes his stomach churn and twist.  
  
Dean shivers, trying to swallow down the sense of apprehension. The gaping hole left by the departure of Sammy and now his father has left him in despair, but not empty. He's full of fight. The new challenge is right in front of him and even if he's alone, without the support of either of his relatives, the despair doesn't touch his spirit. He holds on to that thought, to the desire of protecting the baby that – despite everything – he has started to care about and now to prevent a prophesized apocalypse.  
  
His sixth sense is telling him that the Trickster is saying the truth. Even if it's so hard to handle, Dean can feel the sincerity in his words. He cannot grant himself the luxury of trusting him completely, but he can accept that little truth.  
  
"Is the baby human?"  
  
"One hundred per cent."  
  
Dean nods.  
  
"Okay. I'm going to Bobby Singer. You're coming with me." He decides, his voice all business. If the Trickster is a wanted man now, Dean has to double his alertness.  
  
The Trickster chuckles. "Yessir."  
  
"What I am supposed to call you?" He asks when he turns on the Impala.  
  
The Trickster doesn't respond for a while, then, reluctantly, he says: "You can call me Gabriel."  
  
"Gabriel it is, then."


	3. Chapter 3

 

  
  
  
***Sam***  
  
  
Three years later  
  
Palo Alto, California  
  
Sam hates Halloween. When someone hunts half of the creatures the kids dress up as that day, it's difficult to appreciate such festivity.  
  
On the other hand, Jess loves Halloween. She has spoken non-stop about the party, her dress, how much fun she had when she was a kid that Sam couldn't say no to her. He's going to that stupid party, drink something, talk to his friends and that's it.  
  
But Jess isn't happy at all. She leans over him, reaching for another shot and downs it. She laughs when Brady, who did the same thing, stumbles and has to grip the table so he doesn’t fall on the floor.  
  
Dean would love Jess. For some aspects, she's his type.  
  
It's been three years now and Sam feels like he's missing a limb without his big brother and lover besides him. Nothing has changed. He still loves him. He still wants him. He still dreams of him at night, his skin, his cock, his moans when Sam fucks him, his eyes when he looks just at Sam and they are full of adoration.  
  
Sam grew up. Now he bets he's taller than Dean. Sometimes, when he's in the shower and he touches himself, he thinks how great it will be to tower over Dean, manhandle him, fuck him, let his arms wrap around him like the most precious thing in the world.  
  
Dean is always with him. In his dreams, in his mind, in every step he takes. It couldn't be any different.  
  
"Sometimes I hate you, Sam Winchester," comments Jessica. She looks gorgeous in her costume of a killed nurse, with her scrubs splattered in blood and the signs of a vampire bite on her long neck.  
  
"What? I came like I promised."  
  
"First of all, you didn't dress up."  
  
"I told you, I hate Halloween –"  
  
"Then you sat down here, all by yourself, sulking like a kid."  
  
"Jess –"  
  
Jessica rolls her eyes. "Fine. We're going home."  
  
"No, we can stay a little while."  
  
Jess chuckles and pulls Sam on his feet. "Yeah, and I can endure the torture of seeing my roommate sulking in a corner because I drag him out for party after the finals. You really think so little of me that I can leave you and go partying when today should all about you and your important interview on Monday?" She winks. "Come on, take me home."  
  
Sam laughs as she tries not to fall. Alcohol and high heels aren't a great combination. He passes an arm around her waist and the girl leans on him. The perfume of her shampoo invades his nostrils and they bid their goodbye to the rest of their friends.  
  
Their three-room house is closer to the frat party and Sam and Jess chat friendly about everything, like always, until they reach the door. There was a period of time when Sam thought that Jess can make him forget about Dean, but Sam loves Jess too much as a friend, he doesn't want to hurt her, treating her like a replacement of someone he cannot have ever again.  
  
He told her that, after they got drunk and they kissed on their sofa. She made him confess about Dean – not the incest part, of course – and she took care of him, acting like the best friend she is. Their friendship grew stronger after that.  
  
They laugh when the keys fall from Sam's hands, but he stops when he inserts them it in and the door opens without problems. He's sure he closed it before going out.  
  
"Stay behind me."  
  
"Do you think someone broke into our house?" Jess asks with low voice. "Sam, maybe it's best if we call the cops."  
  
There are things worse than a couple of thieves. Sam touches the knife he always brings with him. "Stay here." He enters in the house before the girl can breathe a word.  
  
He doesn't switch on any lights, he knows the disposition of the furniture by heart and he doesn't want to give the invader any advantage, if he's still in. A hand closes around his shoulder and Sam extracts his knife, trying to stab the other, but another hand disarms him easily. A second later, Sam's knife is pressed against Sam's throat.  
  
"You're out of shape, son."  
  
"Dad?"  
  
The lights turn on and John is quick to hide the knife before Jess can see it. "Dad?" She asks with disbelief. "Your dad?" She puts her hands on her hips. "Sir, with all due respect, you broke into our house. What the hell?"  
  
"Jess is right," Sam moves away. "What the hell, dad?"  
  
"Your door needs some work," answers easily John.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
John looks at Jess. "Do you mind leaving us alone? I'd like to talk to my son."  
  
Jess waits for Sam to nod his agreement and closes the door behind her. "I'll be in my room. Nice to meet you, anyway." Her voice is nothing but annoyed and Sam smiles at that. This is one of the reason why he loves Jessica so much, she's feisty and snarky, just like Dean.  
  
"What do you want? Because, sure as hell, you're not here to see my new home."  
  
John looks older and rougher. Three years have left their signs on his face, among the hundreds of hunts he certainly took care of. The words he yelled at Sam the last time are still ringing in his ears and damn, they still make him angry.  
  
Sam folds his arms to his chest. "Because it is funny. Your last words were –"  
  
John interrupts him. "Where's your brother?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Dean. Where's Dean?"  
  
Sam widens his eyes. "I thought he was with you."  
  
"Yeah, until we split hunts and he said he would reach you at Stanford and take small hunts in the area." John explains. "So, where is he? He's not living here. I checked the rooms."  
  
Sam's heart is beating like crazy in his ribcage. "I haven't heard or seen Dean in three years, since that night when you threw me out."  
  
There are few times stupor make its way into John's face, but Sam has never seen him paling so fast as in that moment.  
  
"Why? Something happen to him?"  
  
John runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. "You haven't seen him at all?"  
  
"No, I told you! What happened? Why did you think he was here?"  
  
John picks up the phone and dials a number. Sam isn’t having any of it. "What happened to Dean? Why aren't you two together?"  
  
"Bobby?" John ignores Sam's frantic questions and barks on the phone. "What the fuck, man? Where's my son? Where was my son for the past three years?"  
  
"Three years?" Sam's scream attracts Jess out of her room. She's half undressed and without make up.  
  
"Sam? What is happening?"  
  
"Not now, Jess." The girl jumps, like she's been slapped. Sam passes a hand through his hair. "Sorry, Jess. Please, can you leave us alone for a couple of more minutes?"  
  
Jess nods and sighs, returning to her room. Sam turns his attention to his dad, who is now openly fighting over the phone with Bobby. He lost part of the conversation, but from what he can put together Bobby is an essential part of Dean's disappearing.  
  
Three years is a long time even for John to check on his eldest son. But again, Sam hasn't received a call either and it's been three years too for him, but, on the other hand, John knows where Sam is and that he's out of supernatural troubles. But Dean? Maybe when Dean told him he was going to Palo Alto, John cancelled him from his life, just like he did with Sam.  
  
But, god, where's Dean now? Is it possible that Dean's intention was to come to Palo Alto – _to Sam_ – and something bumped in his road, killing him? Sam doesn't want to think about that. He doesn't. It's best if he can think about Dean stumbling in some chick or some man, forget Sam and dad, and live his happily ever after, forgetful of everything else. It hurts, but less than thinking that his brother is dead.  
  
"Bobby, just tell me truth. Where is my son?" Dad's cold-hearted voice wakes Sam up from his thoughts. He looks at his dad: the frown upon his forehead, the deep crinkles around his eyes, his hair, now spiked with grey, a four day beard. He hasn't looked for both of his sons for years, but now, with that simple question formulated in a cold killer voice, Sam can see the cracks through his otherwise hard and rough façade. Dad is _deadly_ worried for Dean, just as much as Sam.  
  
"Cut the crap. I don't need your lecture, old man! Just – Bobby? Bobby, you son of a bitch!" John grips the phone tight to the point of having his knuckles white in strain. He remains in silence, staring at the phone, but doesn't try to call the other hunter back.  
  
"So?" Sam prompts. "What does Bobby say? Dad?"  
  
"He knows something but he doesn't want to tell me." He hands the phone over to Sam. "Call him. Maybe the bastard will talk to you."  
  
"Not before you tell me what this story about Dean is."  
  
"Sam, we don't have to argue now."  
  
"Tell me. Why did you think he was here? And what does it mean you didn't know where Dean was for _three fucking years_?"  
  
John takes a deep breath. "Dean and I split up a couple of months after you came here. Then after a few months, he called me and he said that he wanted to come to California and Bobby will sends him the nearest hunts, so I guessed he was with you."  
  
"He didn't come here," Sam's voice is shattered. "He didn't."  
  
"I thought you two were together, I didn't investigate," adds John stiffly.  
  
They remain in an uncomfortable silence for a couple of minutes, trying to wrap their heads around the matter. Sam doesn't think he really hated his father before, but for a moment, when he confessed that Dean has disappeared and he didn't look for him, he did. Then, the hate moved from his father to himself. He didn't look for Dean either, despite Dean being on his mind every day.  
  
Sam stretches his hand and utters. "Give me the phone. I'll call Bobby myself."  
  
  
  
  
***Dean***  
  
  
South Dakota  
  
The best part of the day is around four o'clock when the pre-school rings the last bell of the day and a multitude of children invade the main yard.  
  
Dean loves watching the children running like crazy from the entrance of the school like a noisy and colorful flood, eager to reach for the arms of their parents, eager to receive a kiss, a hug or simply a pat on the shoulders.  
  
One of the mothers is sitting in a bench under a tree and she is seven or eight months pregnant. She carries a little low, so probabilities are high that she's pregnant with a girl. Dean smiles a little. He remembers when he was pregnant, with his feet hurting all the fucking day, ankles swollen and looking like a whale. But he wouldn't change his past for anything else in the world.  
  
Jacob is only a little spot among other children, with his blond hair and freckles splattered all over his nose, but as closer as he gets to Dean, the hunter's heart fills with wonder and pride.  
  
Jacob's smile is wide and carefree and when he sees his father waiting for him, he waves frantically. He rushes to reach him, arms already spread, ready to be picked up. Dean scoops him in his arms immediately and kisses his cheek.  
  
"Hey champ!"  
  
The feeling that surges from his heart when he hugs his little son is still something indescribable and unique. Every time he wraps his arms around him, it's like the first time, when he held the little bundle with closed eyes and a pair of very loud lungs. His son.  
  
Dean has lost his mother to a demon, he has probably lost his father and his brother 'cause of their – and his own – choices, but he has Jacob. As long as he has him, everything is perfect.  
  
Dean wired the car of the headmistress of the pre-school a year back, so, even if Jacob wasn’t exactly three years old, she let him in. Since Dean owned a garage and he's working there all day, pre-school is the perfect option for him; when it's four o'clock he can leave his garage to his employees until the closing time and he can freely go to pick up his son and they can walk together to their home.  
  
"Daddy!" Jake gives Dean a trail of wet kisses like he always does. He's such an affectionate child with Dean. He has a couple of close friends, but he's a reserved kid, almost shy sometimes, especially with strangers, something he inherited from Dean himself, according to Bobby. "Look, look, I did this!" He brandishes the drawing he has in his little hand until Dean takes it.  
  
The drawing shows Dean and Jake hand in hand with big smiles on their faces. On the other side of Jake there are two other people, Grandpa Bobby, with his baseball cap and one of his guard dogs, and Uncle Gabe, as tall as Jake, happily munching his sweets. Their questionable little family. The family Dean has had for three years, now.  
  
"It's beautiful, buddy," says Dean, making his way towards home. "How about we attach it to the fridge?"  
  
Jacob throws his hands to the sky. "Yes, daddy!"  
  
"Let's get home, Jake." The words are sweet like a promise and Dean likes to say it aloud. It's a nice change from what he had in the past.  
  
"Can we have ice cream, daddy?" Jacob asks with low voice. He looks sheepishly at his father, showing him his well-used puppy eyes. Something he took from Sam.  
  
"We had ice cream yesterday, Jake." Before Jake can show his disappointment, Dean adds. "But we'll have Gabriel at dinner tonight, don't you remember?"  
  
Jacob starts talking non-stop about how many gifts Gabriel is going to bring him. Dean smiles. Gosh, how much the things have changed in three years... Gabriel, aka the Trickster, is acting like an uncle to Jacob. He took the matter of protecting Dean and his son seriously, he even started to live as a human and working – if what he does is working – in a candy shop. Of course, having an uncle in the candy business is 'cool' and Jake takes every chance he gets to extort gifts from Gabriel.  
  
They get home a couple of minutes later. Jacob rushes to the kitchen, eager to have his drawing on the fridge, he messes with the magnets a little before Dean helps him. "Now go play, buddy, okay?"  
  
"Yes, daddy!" He bounces to the living room, eager to play with his toys just in front of the sofa.  
  
The cell rings and Bobby's number shows on the screen. "Hey Bobby, you alright?"  
  
"There's a fucking big problem, boy," answers Bobby. "Your father is at Sam's place."  
  
Dean stumbles with the realization and he has to put a hand on the table. His throat feels tight, the words don't want to come out, the memories, the fears, the doubts flood his mind, but Dean manages to break through his panic. "What the fuck? Why now?"  
  
He threw away all his old numbers, buying a new one just for Bobby and Gabriel when the old hunter has a hunt close to town. Gabriel prepared a new identity as Dean Smith, born in Boston from Matthew and Kirsten Smith. Gabriel provided him also a house and a job. Dean was sure there was no way his father would look for him there, if he would look for him at all.  
  
Three years ago, when Dean made the most difficult decision of his life; he called his dad and said that Bobby would provide him hunts in the California area, leaving his father to figure it out that he was going to Sammy. Dad, of course, never responded to his voicemail. He never looked for him. Sammy was the perfect excuse, but now...  
  
"He was looking for you at Sam's place. I don't know why. Sam obviously told him that he hasn't seen you in years and now they're on a hunting trip. They are hunting you, boy." Bobby says. He pauses, letting the words sink in Dean's chest like heavy stones. "Never heard both Winchesters sound so distraught."  
  
Dean sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Fuck. He knew that this moment would arrive, sooner rather than later, but the surprise is still hitting him. He looks at the door, where he can see part of the living room occupied by his son playing loudly with his toys.  
  
What dad would do if he knew about Jake? What would _Sam_ say?  
  
Dean cannot hide the fact that Jake is his son – they're too similar, no-one can believe otherwise –, but maybe he can lie about his other father or – _other mother_. He can say that Jake is Dean's and some chick's. He can go with the lie he's been living for years in that little town; his girlfriend didn't want the child, so Dean raised him by himself.  
  
But Dean knows that he's a horrible liar when it comes to his dad and his brother. He can hide the truth, but not for long. There are too many clues that Sammy and dad can scrutinize and put together; a male pregnancy is hard to figure it out, but never underestimate an angry Winchester, determined to learn the truth.  
  
"Dean? What are you planning to do? You should call them before they start a manhunt across the states."  
  
Dean highly doubts that. They'll probably fight all the way through. "Yeah, I guess I should do that." And that scares him shitless.  
  
"And maybe you should tell them about the little man."  
  
"No. There's no way." Dean is determined to protect his son from everything, even if it means preventing his family from meeting him.  
  
"Son –"  
  
"Thanks for the call, Bobby." He hangs up and let the phone fall on the counter like it's burning him.  
  
It looks like Dean is screwed.  
  
The bell rings, announcing Gabriel's arrival. Jacob rushes towards the door, screaming at Dean that he's got it. An ecstatic squeal from his son makes Dean forget about his problems for a moment, enjoying the entrance of Jacob with a bag of marshmallows and Gabriel in tow, with a lollipop in his mouth.  
  
"Daddy, daddy! Look what Uncle Gabe gave me!" Jacob jumps up and down, showing the gigantic bag of sweets. "Can we eat it? With chocolate?"  
  
"Not tonight, sport."  
  
"But mommyyyy..."  
  
Dean's smile cringes and Gabriel chuckles. Calling Dean 'mommy' is something Jacob has learnt to drop with time, but sometimes he still falls into his old habit.  
  
Dean guesses that the lack of a mother – he refuses to be called that, he still has his male parts, thank you very much – has affected Jacob. He never asked about his mother, though, he just assumed Dean is both, dad and mum, for the many ways he took care of him.  
  
Dean explained to him the difference, but it's nothing when a three year old is used to another name for his dad. At least, he calls Dean 'daddy' in public. Most of the time.  
  
"Fine, Jake. We'll have hot chocolate and a couple of marshmallows after dinner, how does that sound?"  
  
Jacob squeals again and thanks his dad, before motioning Gabriel to look at the drawing on the fridge.  
  
"Well, Dean-o, good job denying something to Jake when he grows up," comments Gabriel, passing besides him.  
  
Dean scratches the back of his head. Yeah, he has a small problem in refusing anything to his son. "Oh right, because I'm the only one who Jacob has wrapped around his little finger," he answers and Gabriel doesn't argue with that.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _Three years ago  
  
Dean scrunches his nose at the smell of gel that stinks up the room. The ultrasound machine is showing him a perfect image of his baby. A head, a body, little fingers... Dean is focusing on the smell, instead of the tears that are threatening to wet his face. He cannot show this to Bobby or Gabriel, who are looking for any problems with the baby.  
  
It's the first time he realised how real this whole fucking pregnancy is.  
  
The heartbeat of the baby is like a train and it's the only thing Dean listens to. Bobby and Gabriel's bickering is only in the background, far, far away.  
  
Dean wonders if he can be a good father, considering that his role model is a father who carried his two sons on his hunts all around America. Dad was a good dad, but Dean doesn't want to be like him. He wants something different for his baby, especially considering what Gabriel told him about the whole apocalypse crap.  
  
"Dean?" Bobby's voice pulls him away from his thoughts. "You alright, boy?"  
  
Dean sits up. "So, is everything good?"  
  
"Yes, Dean-o. The baby is fine. Oh, and it's a boy. So you better start thinking about names." Gabriel smiles broadly. "See? I told you."  
  
"You never told me."  
  
"I told you your little bun in the oven is alright, and the baby is alright." Gabriel argues, like he usually does.  
  
Since the day Dean arrived at Bobby's home in Sioux Falls with the Trickster in tow, Gabriel has been a constant presence in that house, along with his sweets, his twisted sense of humor and the constant bickering. Bobby searched through all his books, but they know nothing more about the Trickster. They still don't trust him, but for now, Gabriel is stuck with them.  
  
"Fucking awesome." Dean cleans the liquid on his belly with a cloth, then lowers his t-shirt. The image of the baby is still on the screen, still and unmoving. The bastard of a Trickster has snapped a photo. "How am I going to pop him out?"  
  
"I think c-section," answers Bobby, sitting down on a chair and drinking a glass of gin. Dean is dying to have one as well, but he fucking cannot have it.  
  
"No, you'll have the little boy in the old fashioned way."  
  
Both Dean and Bobby turn to the Trickster, flabbergasted and disgusted. "What?"  
  
"What the fuck are you saying? I don't have a vagina!"  
  
Gabriel shrugs. "No, but I made you possible of give birth through a –"  
  
"Don't say vagina!"  
  
" – a birth canal. It's a small hole that it will appear under your man parts around the sixth month."  
  
Bobby takes the bottle and drinks directly from it. Dean is still frozen on the spot, his mind slowly processing the information.  
  
"Come on, Dean-o, you should be happy. Isn't it something all mothers prefer? Giving birth in the natural way?"  
  
Dean ignores the 'mother' comment and grits his teeth. "Tell me again why you made me pregnant."  
  
"I told you, I was trying to give you a possibility."  
  
"A possibility of going crazy?"  
  
"A possibility of happiness."  
  
Dean looks down and stands up, his eyes on the image on the screen of the ultrasound machine. "It didn't work so well, did it?"  
  
Despite the drama, the doubts and the problems, Dean doesn't really hold a grudge against the baby. He can still throw hissy fits with Gabriel because essentially he screwed him up and continues to hide the full truth, but Dean cannot deny the pull he feels when he thinks that there's a life inside him.  
  
He thought that Sammy was material for a normal life, but instead, it’s Dean who's thinking about settling down to give the child something good like a stable home. Dean won't be able to give up hunting completely, but nurturing a kid is not something awful. Fuck, Dean is fitting into the expectant's father shoes way too easily.  
  
"It did," says Gabriel. "But not in the way I expected you to. I'm cheering for you, Dean-o."  
  
Dean looks away from the picture on the screen. He thinks of Sam. Gabriel tried to push him to go to Sam's and unveil the secret, but Dean refused stubbornly.  
  
For some crazy times – and he blames the fucking hormones for that – there are days when Dean wants Sam to be with him, enjoying the pregnancy together, fighting about names and how Dean is still not eating very healthily. Then he remembers that his pregnancy is unnatural and supernatural, his baby brother discarded him to live his apple pie life and a kid born from incest and a Trickster's spell is not considered part of a 'normal life'.  
  
"Enough with the girly moments," says Bobby, standing up from the chair. "I'm gonna grill some burgers."  
  
They leave Dean alone, watching at his baby on the monitor and wondering if he's going to be a good dad or if he's going to screw up entirely._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"So, your daddy is on the move?"  
  
Dean drinks his beer and nods. "I guess so."  
  
Gabriel and he are resting on the couch after Dean tucked Jacob in bed, with a Doctor Sexy episode on the background, chatting about Dean's next move.  
  
"What are you planning to do?"  
  
That's a good question.  
  
Dean doesn't really know. A Winchester doesn't let something drive him away from his aim. If dad and Sam are on the road looking for him, they won't give up easily. It doesn't matter what their motives are, they will search through the country for him. If they don't slaughter each other first, that is.  
  
He wonders how Sam has changed. It's been years and Sam is a man now. Dean wonders how he would look, if he grew taller, if he has a new hairstyle, less girly, if he looks the same, just a bit older.  
  
These are the same questions Dean would ask himself during the night, when the sleep doesn't come and he stumbles back into his old habit of thinking about his brother.  
  
He had tried to go out on dates with a couple of chicks, but none of them lasted more than a night. Who knows, maybe Sam has finally started a family of his own. A fiancée soon-to-be wife and a couple of kids planned after he finishes his studies. That thought never fails to anger him. It's selfish and cruel, but Dean hates knowing that Sam has started something this precious with somebody else.  
  
When Dean is in a particularly depressed mood, he thinks about how Sam would react if he finds out about Jacob. Or what dad would think of him.  
  
"Easy," answers Dean, bitterly. "They won't know anything about Jacob. For all that matters, he's my son and his mother ran away."  
  
"So, you know they will find you."  
  
"Of course they will. Sam may be out of shape, but dad is still a hunter. He'll find a way." Dean snorts and adds, snarkily. "If they manage to actually not kill each other." He pauses for a moment, "You... you can tell me where they are, right?"  
  
"Oh, and where's the fun in that? I want a reunion worth of some chick flick! I'll even bring some caramel popcorn for the occasion!"  
  
"Gabriel, stop being a dick or I'll stab you."  
  
"You know it doesn't hurt me."  
  
"Yes, but it will make me very happy."  
  
Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Be more creative with your threats at least."  
  
"Fuck, Gabriel, can you tell me or not?"  
  
There are a lot of things a Trickster can do. Dean knows only a part of it, but when Gabriel surprised him, around his seventh month of pregnancy – and when he was prey to some raging hormones –, offering to let Dean see his brother and father, he knew that Gabriel was still keeping an eye on them. If something happens, he would tell him.  
  
At that time, Dean refused. Ignorance is bliss. He will not see his brother move on, or his father hunting alone and battling with the ghosts of his past. But he'll trust the Trickster to tell him if they are under a death threat.  
  
Today, though, Dean wants to know. He's nervous as hell since Bobby's call, but he needs to know. He wants to be ready when they come.  
  
"Maybe," answers Gabriel. "But I won't stop them finding you." It's weird when sometimes he sided with his brother and father.  
  
"They will find me anyway." Dean isn't a scared little girl. He can handle them.  
  
"If you're sure, fine, they're on their way to Bobby's old place."  
  
Bobby won't tell them anything, but dad is stubborn and Sam is sneaky. Dean’s days are numbered.  
  
  
  
  
  
***Sam***  
  
  
Somewhere around California  
  
Every day that passes without knowing anything about Dean's whereabouts scares Sam a little more and increases the ache in his chest. They left California hours ago and they are now on their way to South Dakota. Bobby Singer has proven to be tougher than ever, avoiding their questions and keeping the secret of where Dean is, so the best way possible to gain some information is to drill him personally.  
  
John confesses to Sam that he has a clue on how to kill the demon who put an end to Mary's life, but he needs some back up. That's why he came to Palo Alto. In the end John doesn't trust anyone but his eldest to finish a hunt he started more than twenty years ago, or maybe he wants to give Dean a chance to gain some closure. Funny how blind dad is.  
  
The years passed haven't done a lot of good for their relationship. They argue as much as before, but this time there's less friction. It's like dad is tired and Sam doesn't have his old reasons anymore, and, most of all, Dean is their priority right now, along with the mystery of his disappearance.  
  
Sam thinks and thinks about all the reasons which could have lead Dean into lying and disappearing from the face of the Earth. He's not delusional, he knows that after their strained goodbye, it was very unlikely that Dean would turn to him, but he never thought Dean was capable of lying to their dad and abandoning him.  
  
Sam watches his dad. These past few years have been rough on him, but that doesn't excuse him for not looking for Dean. But, John hasn't looked for Sam either.  
  
"We're almost there," announces John with clipped voice.  
  
"I still can't believe you didn't look for him." Sam comments instead for the hundredth time.  
  
John shots him a glare. "I told you why."  
  
Sam snorts. "You really didn't care, right? Dean decided to come to California and you signed him off from your life like you did with me. He said he would be hunting, and you still didn't care. He could have been dead for – years and you didn't care. Now that you need your brave little soldier you searched for him? That's disgusting, dad, even for you."  
  
John turns the wheel briskly and pulls the car over to the side of the road.  
  
"Watch your damn tongue with me, boy!"  
  
"What? Because you hate someone telling the truth?"  
  
"I trusted your brother to take care of himself," John grinds his teeth.  
  
"This is Dean's fault now? You've got some balls!"  
  
"Sammy –" This is when John cracks and the worry emerges again, but in the end he returns as the same son of a bitch he always was. "Shut up." He restarts the car. "Shut the fuck up."  
  
Sam doesn't give up, but he lowers his voice. "You shouldn't have sent Dean off on his own."  
  
John doesn't answer for a long moment. "Your brother is an adult. I was giving him some space."  
  
Sam shakes his head. He knows that wasn't the truth. Dad is hiding something, but Sam has other, more important, problems now. He needs to find Dean.  
  
Bobby Singer's yard is exactly like Sam remembers, even if many years have passed since the last time he saw it. It’s the same with Bobby Singer himself. Same worn jeans, same baseball cap, same beard. He's waiting for them on the porch and Sam considers it a good welcome, considering he's not armed.  
  
John parks in front of the house and gets out warily, almost scared that Bobby is going to extract a weapon from his jeans. Sam follows his example, but nods at Bobby. The old man responds at his friendly gesture, staring at Sam like he's trying to figure him out.  
  
"You grew a lot, Sam. I remember you as a little runt."  
  
"Cut the crap, Bobby," John's voice is grim. "I didn't drive for hours just for courtesy. Now tell me where the hell my son is."  
  
"I didn't hear the magic words, John."  
  
"Bobby," Sam interjects, moving towards the older guy. "Please."  
  
Bobby looks from father to son and back again. In the end, he fixes his cap and turns his back to them. "Come on in."  
  
  
  
***The Trickster***  
  
  
Gabriel looks closely at Sam when he leaves the kitchen, putting behind Bobby Singer and John Winchester yelling at each other. The face of the young man is scrunched and a deep frown distorts his forehead, but his eyes have a glint of determination, which is why Gabriel follows him, instead of listening to the fight between the two older men.  
  
Sam moves swiftly in Bobby's living room, searching for any clue that can help him find his brother.  
  
Gabriel stands and stares at Sam when he starts to concentrate hard, trying to grasp his thoughts and find a better trail. He mutters something and blows out a long breath, then he gets back to his research.  
  
In the end, Gabriel cannot wait any longer. He didn't promise Dean that he wouldn't lift a finger to help or obstacle Sam.  
  
The years he passed as a human, disguised as the owner of a candy shop, acting like an uncle for the little Winchester has made him too involved in the story. Well, he was involved the minute he threw a spell at Dean.  
  
Gabriel shakes his head. Great.  
  
 _How the mighty have fallen._  
  
His brothers would surely laugh at him, if they knew what he is doing, but Gabriel is proud of himself, maybe for the first time in millennia. Changing the future is not something that Gabriel, even with his powers, can take lightly. Too many variables, too much to consider, too many way Fate can screw him and his plans.  
  
But Gabriel is not someone who gives up.  
  
That's why he makes it possible for to Sam to find the brochure Bobby had hidden under a pile of books on his desk. The brochure for a carnival where Bobby and Dean brought Jake for his birthday, which was a couple of towns away from Dean's home.  
  
Sam examines the sheet dumbly, like it's some sort of twisted joke. Gabriel wants to punch him. Smart, my ass. Sam looks lost and has no idea how to connect the carnival with Dean and Gabriel feels his patience growing thin.  
  
Then, Sam looks under the books where he found the brochure and he finds the business card of Dean's garage. He finally has some solid proof and Gabriel sighs in relief. It's time that Sam meets Jacob and Dean can give him a do-over.  
  
He disappears, leaving Sam marching towards the kitchen with the business card held in his hands.  
  
  
  
  
***Dean***  
  
  
South Dakota  
  
 _Dean stands naked in front of the long mirror in the bathroom, looking at his swollen belly. That's incredible. A small life is growing inside of him. He's almost due and he cannot wait to see his kid for the first time. He's going to be a cute little kid, he's sure.  
  
Gabriel says that it's a boy and he's growing completely fine, but Dean doesn't buy it. There's still the 'incest' thing going on and Dean wants to be sure that everything is alright with his little man, so Bobby smuggled an ultrasound machine and snaps a couple of photos of the little guy from time to time.  
  
Dean dropped under the hunting radar since month four.  
  
He touches his belly, feeling the baby kicking. "You're going to be a hell of a man, kid."  
  
Then, it occurs to him.  
  
Jacob.  
  
There was a book where the main character was called Jacob and little Sammy asked and asked for it to be read night after night. Dean ponders if he really wants to have such a clear reminder of Sam. But then, really, he's such a hypocrite.  
  
Dean is going to remember Sam every day of his life. Baby or not. And the baby is as much Sam's as Dean's. Naming the kid from something of their childhood is a nice memory.  
  
Yes, his baby is going to be called Jacob._  
  
  
  
"Mommyyyyyy!"  
  
Dean opens his eyes and groans. Jacob finds it funny to bounce on his chest and on the bed, landing besides him and screaming in his ear. "Mommy, wake uuuuup!"  
  
"Jake, what time is it?"  
  
"Mommyyyy! Hungryyyyy!"  
  
Dean looks at the alarm clock in the bedside. Six o'clock. Yeah, fucking great. He checks his cellphone, one message from Bobby. _"John and Sam came and left. No word on you. Call me tomorrow."_ Dean let out a deep breath and smiles. Bobby hasn't said anything, but maybe has bought him some time.  
  
"Mommyyyyyyy!"  
  
Dean swings an arm around Jake's waist and the boy falls on the bed, snuggling against Dean's side.  
  
"How about we sleep another hour, kiddo?"  
  
"But I'm hungry, mommy."  
  
Sighing, Dean sits up and starts tickling his Jacob, who laughs and thrashes in the sheets, trying to get away from his father and his hands without success. They end up laughing on the bed and Jacob gives him sloppy kisses all over his face, like the affectionate boy he is.  
  
"Pancakes?" Dean offers, enjoying this precious moment.  
  
"Pancakes, mommy!" Jake repeats, standing up on the bed and jumping on it again. "Pancakes!"  
  
"Then, you have to help me, come on."  
  
Dean walks out from the master bedroom, followed closely by his son, and together they go to the kitchen where Dean starts preparing the pancakes from scratch. He remembers when he did the same thing for little Sammy before his brother discovered the wonders of cereals and the surprises in the boxes.  
  
Jake tries to help him, creating only mayhem in the kitchen. When the first stack of pancakes is on the plate, Jake loses all interest in making them and sits at the table, pouring maple syrup on them. Dean gives him a glass of milk and ruffles his hair, laughing when the kid looks up and his mouth and cheeks are painted with syrup. Yes, like father like son.  
  
He whips some eggs and fries bacon while he's drinking his hot coffee, listening to Jake's chitchat. When he sits down at the table, Jake has finished his pancakes, and he immediately leans over to Dean to be picked up and be settled on his lap. Dean complies and eats his breakfast with his son comfortably snuggled on his lap.  
  
"Kiss?"  
  
"Of course, champ." Dean kisses Jake's tip of nose, then his forehead. Jake's blond hair is long enough to need a cut and Dean puts it on the list of the things to do on the weekend.  
  
The bell rings and Dean wonders who it might be, so early in the morning. Jake waits for no-one and runs to open the door. "Jake, don't open the door!"  
  
Jake freezes on the spot. "Why, daddy?"  
  
Dean stands up and reaches his son. "The door is locked, kiddo. Stay here, and let daddy handle this."  
  
Dean checks the salt lines and looks through the peephole. His heart leaps in his chest when he sees the two people he has written out of his life years ago. He quickly unlocks the door, but before he opens it, he turns to Jake. "Go in the kitchen and finish your milk, okay?"  
  
"But daddy –"  
  
"Come on, you don't want to be late for school, right?"  
  
Jake shakes his head and gets back to the kitchen. Dean can finally open the door and face his family.  
  
"Hello, dad, Sam."


	4. Chapter 4

  
  


  
  
  
  
**Dean**  
  
  
"Dean!" It's the first word that comes out from Sam's lips. Then, he stops, like he doesn't know what to add.  
  
John doesn't have the same problem.  
  
"Son! You owe me an explanation!" He barks.  
  
"I don't owe you any explanation," answers Dean, lowering his voice, trying not to draw Jake’s attention. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"What the hell, Dean!" John growls. "Your brother and I have been looking for you for days! You told me you were going to California but you never showed up. Yes, you owe a _big_ explanation, and I want to hear it now."  
  
Orders are the only way John can communicate with Dean, so his instinctual response is to duck his head and tell him everything, but he manages to restrain himself. He cannot forget that it has taken years since John looked for Dean.  
  
His dad and Sam are on the verge of saying something else, when Jake, whose curiosity is too much for Dean to handle, inserts himself between Dean and the doorway, hiding his body partially behind his dad, and looks at the strangers with wide eyes.  
  
Dean cannot undo what Jake has done, especially not since his father and Sammy both have taken a good look at the little man. "Jake, what did I tell you?"  
  
Jake's hand grips Dean's leg and looks contrite. "Sorry daddy. Me think is Grandpa Bobby."  
  
Dean's eyes sweep back to Sam and his father, who are standing a few feet away with identical dumbstruck looks on their faces. Sam is taller than the last time Dean saw him, a couple of inches at least and John is scruffier and older. They both look at Dean, now.  
  
"Your... son?" Sam asks with a quiver in his voice.  
  
"Yes," responds Dean proudly, picking Jake up. The boy leans against him, burying his head against his dad's chest and occasionally sneaking a glance towards the strangers. There is an undeniable resemblance between him and his son and Dean doesn't need to lie. "He's my son."  
  
"So, that is it." John says slowly. "He's the reason why you lied and dropped off the radar? You knocked up some girl and you played happy life with them? And not a word to me?"  
  
Of course everything must involve John and his plans.  
  
Jake makes a distressed sound and Dean immediately starts to rocking him back and forth, trying to calm him. "Drop your voice, dad," he hisses, then he turns his attention to Jake. "Hey, buddy, everything is okay. I'm here."  
  
"They bad?" A muffled voice comes from Dean's chest.  
  
John remains silent, watching the scene in front of him like a hawk. Sam looks more unsure, almost embarrassed. Dean never forgets how goofy his brother is with little kids.  
  
"No, they are not," answers Dean. He leaves the door open, motioning to his father and brother to come in, and continues to rocking his son in his arms. He sits down on the sofa in the living room and Jake looks up to him with his big green eyes.  
  
"Who are?"  
  
Dean hesitates for a moment before taking a deep breath and makes Jake sits up on his lap, with his back against his chest. "They are family."  
  
Jake's eyes shoot up to Dean. "Like Uncle Gabe and Grandpa Bobby?"  
  
"Yes, like them."  
  
John and Sam look so out of place in Dean's house, like they have no idea how to move or what to do; it's Dean's world, the life Dean shut them out of years ago. They are certainly waiting for some lady to come from upstairs, asking Dean what's all the fuss at the door. No-one comes and that seems to baffle an edgy Sam.  
  
There are pictures hanging on the wall and both Sam and John are looking at them. No female figure is showing, just Dean, Jake at various ages, Bobby and an unknown man that captures John's attention.  
  
"The Trickster?"  
  
Damn.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Don't play dumb with me, Dean."  
  
Jake moves into his lap, curious. "Who are, daddy?"  
  
Dean points his finger first to John then to Sam. "That is my dad, your Grandpa, and that is your –" Dean stops. "That is Sammy."  
  
"It's Sam, now," corrects him Sam.  
  
"It's always Sammy," teases Dean, chuckling.  
  
"I Jacob." Jake pipes in, but he makes no move to approach either John or Sam. "I have two gramps, daddy?"  
  
"Yes, you do." Dean stands up, still wrapping his arms around his son. "Now we have to get ready, ok? I'll bring you to Tom and he'll take you to school with Aaron." Tom lives right in front of them and has a son with the same age of Jake, Aaron, who, according to Jacob, he's his friend, but not the 'bestest', who will always be his daddy.  
  
"Ok, daddy. But you get me, okay?"  
  
"Of course. I'll come and get you when school's over." Dean gives his father and brother a pointed look, but they both say nothing, nodding to acknowledge that they will stay there until Dean comes back.  
  
Dean brings Jake to his bedroom and changes his clothes. He makes a quick call to Tom and he's relieved when the other man agrees and invites him to bring Jake anytime. After a few minutes, Dean drops Jake to the other house, giving his son a big kiss and watching him run to Aaron. On his way back home, he quickly calls his colleague Matt at the garage, telling him that he's taking the morning off for family problems and he has to open the garage without him.  
  
Sam and John are standing in the living room when Dean arrives. John is still looking at the pictures, at the ones with Gabriel in particular, but the brother is by the window.  
  
"So, care to tell me why the Trickster is in your damn family photo album?" John welcomes Dean.  
  
"What is a Trickster?" Sam asks, confused.  
  
"A creature your brother and I hunted a long time ago," responds John curtly.  
  
"You let a supernatural Trickster get close to your son?"  
  
"Don't you dare tell me what's right or wrong for my kid." Dean snaps. "I know what I'm doing. No need to lecture me."  
  
"Where's the mother?" Sam asks instead, fiddling with his shirt. It's almost painful how he looks at Dean, like he's waiting for some sort of blow up. But Sam has no right to act like a hurt puppy.  
  
"Mother is long gone," answers Dean.  
  
Sam nods. "Does Jacob know about hunts and the supernatural?"  
  
"He's not even three." Dean gives him a glance of disapproval, even though he's more addressing the issue to his father. "He's young."  
  
"Sam has a point about the Trickster. What goes on in your mind, Dean?" John spits. "I remember you killing the Trickster in that damn auditorium."  
  
"We didn't gank him. He's immortal, the stake didn't work. And he's –" Dean tries to work on a possible lie, but in the end, he just says the truth. Or part of it, anyway. "He helped me with Jake."  
  
"He's a supernatural creature, hence he cannot be trusted. What were you thinking?"  
  
"It's different."  
  
"Different how?"  
  
Dean glares at him. "You weren't here. Sam wasn't here. I can take care of my kid. We managed just fine. And what if the Trickster has a part in this? I trust him with my kid. Don't you dare imply that I'm not a good father."  
  
"We are just worried," Sam says with concern. "It's just – you disappeared. Dad came to Palo Alto to look for you and you were nowhere to be found. We went to Bobby to look for you."  
  
"So, how did you find me?"  
  
Sam shows him the business card from his garage. "I found this on Bobby's desk. We came here, we asked a few questions and it turned out you live here."  
  
Figures.  
  
"Dean, I was worried." Sam's gives his best puppy eyes, something Jake has inherited from him and guilt rises from Dean's guts. It doesn't matter if Sam has left him behind. He cannot stay mad at his little brother long enough to hold a grudge.  
  
Sam raises a hand, like he wants to caress Dean's cheek, but then it lets it slide along his side, when he remembers that they're not alone in the room. "Why didn't you contact me?" He pointedly ignores his dad. They both know that a kid isn't exactly what John wants from his eldest. He wants Dean to continue his work in hunting, but it's clear that Dean doesn't want to drag his kid over all fifty states like John did before him. "I could have helped you."  
  
"You were at Stanford, living the dream. You made it quite clear that you didn't want me anymore." Dean bites his bottom lip, darting a quick glance towards dad. He quickly changes the subject. "Why were you looking for me, dad?"  
  
"I found a hunt you should be part of," John answers, glaring at both of his sons, like he's sensing that they're hiding something from him. Or maybe he's trying to figure out something from their behavior. "I found a gun, a Colt, that can kill demons. We can finally kill that son of a bitch that murdered your mother."  
  
John's response makes Sam and Dean forget about the tension between them. From Sam's reaction, there is no doubt that dad hasn't said a thing to him about this special hunt. It's typical for dad to keep things to himself.  
  
"A gun?"  
  
"It's a long story, I'll tell you when we're on our way to Wyoming. Do you still have the Impala or did you exchange her for diapers and a crib?"  
  
Sam opens his mouth, shocked. "Dad!"  
  
Dean grinds his teeth. "No, I still have the Impala."  
  
"Good, then make your arrangements, we leave in the afternoon."  
  
"Wait." Dean almost laughs at him. "I'm not leaving my kid behind."  
  
"We can't take a kid with us."  
  
"It didn't stop you," says Dean before he can think about it. "But it's not what I meant. I'm staying here, _with my kid_."  
  
The silence that follows Dean's statement is tense. Sam looks both proud and surprised at Dean's words, John frowns and doesn't look happy at all. But hey, he didn't even show a bit of happiness when Dean introduced him to his son.  
  
"What did you say?" John's voice is low, but anger is slowly building under the façade.  
  
Dean takes a deep breath. For some reason, something that would have never crossed his mind in the past is his main purpose in life. Guess that birthing and caring for his own kid would make him more mature. "This is not my hunt anymore. I have other priorities, now. I don't want to leave behind Jake for god knows how many months. He needs me. I'll stay with him." Then, he adds, determined. "I'm not like you, dad."  
  
"This is the demon that killed your mother!"  
  
"I have a kid now."  
  
"Have you completely lost your mind?"  
  
"Leave him alone." Sam interjects. "Dean is right. He wants to stay with Jacob. This hunt is not his hunt anymore. We changed. If this is so important for you, to the point of leaving everything else, then go, this is your best shot, but leave Dean out of this. He has other responsibilities."  
  
"He has responsibility to this family!"  
  
"Jacob is his son!" Sam almost yells. "Your grandson! Is he not family too?"  
  
John looks at his sons, disappointed and angry. He misses the pull of pride that a father should feel when his sons are growing up to be good men, he sees only betrayal. Plus, this betrayal is coming for the most improbable of his two sons; he's used to Sam's rebellious acts, but Dean has always followed his orders to the letter, promptly. Now he's facing a different Dean, forgotten by the many months he cared for a little bundle in his belly, then gave birth to him, protect him from all evil and started to think about the future.  
  
Normalcy isn't something Dean has ever thought would suit him, but, god knows how much he wants to give Jake the best of the possibilities.  
  
"Ask Bobby." Dean says. "Or Pastor Jim or Caleb."  
  
"Sam?" John asks to his youngest, ignoring Dean's suggestion. "You're coming or is Stanford more important too?"  
  
"I –" Sam looks at Dean, who nods and gives him a pat on the shoulder. "Yes, I'll come."  
  
"We leave now." John turns around and marches towards the door. When he's almost out, he stops. Dean waits for dad to come back or to say something, but doesn't really keep his hopes up. In the end dad leaves without a word and that proves Dean right.  
  
"Dean –" Sam captures his attention. He's close, their bodies almost touching, and Dean is almost lulled to give up and wrap his arms around his little brother, but he doesn't dare to move. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he knows that he won't be able to let him go.  
  
It's Sam who moves first. It's Sam who envelopes him in a tight hug that reeks of desperation. It's Sam who crushes him against his chest and places his lips against Dean's ear to breathe in his smell. And Dean holds onto him like Sam has thrown him a lifeline. He hugs him tight, too tight, and he feels finally completed, in one piece.  
  
They search for each other's lips and they kiss for a long, heated moment, until they run out of air and have to gasp for breath. They kiss without a word and they both don't know if it's a 'welcome back' kiss or a 'I'm glad I find you' kiss or a 'goodbye' kiss or if it's all of this at once.  
  
When they part, they look at each other, staring into their eyes, mind's spinning and knees weak. All the years that have passed, all the doubts, all the worry, all the anger fade in the background. It's just them, now. The lingering kiss still on their red and wet lips, the arms around each other's bodies, the desire that has never died. It's Sam and Dean again.  
  
"Dean, I –"  
  
"Go with dad," says Dean, trying to give a sense to his thoughts. It's difficult when his brother is so close, so solid under his hands. "When you come back, we'll talk."  
  
"We'll both come back."  
  
"I know." Dean says with easiness. "I'll call Bobby. He’ll go with you two." He takes a mental note to call Gabriel too. He'll ask the Trickster to use his powers to protect the three men and he knows that Gabriel won't say no.  
  
Sam claims his lips another time, rough and passionate. When they part, Sam's lips linger and they tremble against Dean. He smiles. "Your son is just like you. He's cute."  
  
Dean feels his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He tries to laugh. "What do you mean 'cute'? He's a handsome son of a gun."  
  
Sam chuckles. "I'd like to spend some time with him."  
  
"When you come back."  
  
"Dean," Sam whispers his name like a secret. "I'm sorry things have gone awful between us, but – nothing’s changed. I love you."  
  
Dean nods. He doesn't need to reciprocate, Sam can see the 'I love you too, dude' in his eyes.  
  
Sam walks away and he does the same thing as dad; he stops in the doorway. But he turns around, he smiles and he promises to call. Then, he closes the door behind his back and leaves Dean alone in his house.  
  
Dean watches his family drive away in a truck from the window, then, rushes to contact Bobby and Gabriel.  
  
  
  
***Sam***  
  
  
Finding Dean has eased the weight on his chest, but not like he expected. Watching Dean interact with his kid has made Sam feel both jealous and content at the same time. He's relieved that Dean is fine, but thinking about his brother building a family with somebody else makes Sam's stomach churn.  
  
The jealousy is completely irrational, he understands that, but Sam cannot help himself. He ran a quick count in his mind and god, Dean had the kid almost right after Sam left. He cannot believe Dean turned the page so fast, but, hey, he had every right to be angry with him after his mistakes.  
  
Despite the years and their tense goodbye, the love hasn't changed a bit and now that he has found Dean again, he doubts he will have the strength to say goodbye to him again. Dean's apparent disappearance has put a serious strain on Sam's priorities. He has no idea what he is supposed to do now, but it's clear that Dean and Stanford aren't compatible.  
  
Sam thinks about Jacob, how astonishingly similar to Dean he is. He knows how good Dean is as a father – he raised him, after all – and he knows that if he wants to be part of Dean's life now he needs to deal with his son too. It can be difficult at first, but, gosh, he's his nephew, even if it's tangible proof that Dean has created a family with somebody else. Even if Jacob's mother was the story of one night, it gave Dean something to care for all his life.  
  
Sam's body feels jittery. He bounces his knees rhythmically with the finger tapping on his right knee, while he looks outside the window of the car, mindlessly.  
  
Dean's lips and his body are still vivid in his mind and Sam is like a starved man. Now that he kissed him and held him, he wants more and more. The hunt is far away from his thoughts, but considering that Wyoming is a couple of days worth of travel, Sam can bask in the warm feeling of contentment after he has found Dean and he has kissed him.  
  
He had to join dad, though. Sam understands Dean's reasons, but he also knows him well enough to know that his brother is deeply worried about their father. This hunt is different to any other and dad will need all the back-up he can get, even if Dean doesn't want to leave his kid behind. The hunt can last days or weeks, according to their hunting skills and how good the son of a bitch is able to hide and run from them, and considering dad hasn't found him in more than twenty years, the demon is very astute.  
  
Sam jumped in and accepted Dean's silent plea for help. At least Sam will go, even if Sam has no desire to take part in that hunt either.  
  
Their reluctance isn't selfishness, it doesn't matter what their father thinks or says. They turned their backs on that hunt years ago for tending to something different in their lives. College and a family.  
  
Sam sneaks a glance at his father. He hasn’t said a thing since they left Dean’s house and he’s sporting a deep frown on his forehead. Sam knows exactly what he’s thinking and he hates it.  
  
Sam could say something to defend Dean and his position, but of course it will start another fight. In the end, it’s dad who pops the bubble.  
  
"What the hell is going on with you and Dean?"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"You know damn well what I'm talking about.” He turns to look at his son, eyes cold and reprimanding. “I saw you from the doorway when you… kissed.” He spits the word like it’s something disgusting.  
  
Sam shivers internally. He forgot that dad left the door open behind him before. Neither Sam nor Dean acknowledged him and that was saying a lot about their abilities as hunters. “What the fuck Sam?"  
  
Sam shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying but he has no intention of backing out from the colossal fight that’s looming over their silent journey. Lying is useless and, frankly, Sam is too pissed off to negate anything. "It’s none of your business, dad. We’re adults and you lost the right to say and order us around like puppets years ago."  
  
"Watch your tongue, boy." John grips the steer wheel so tightly that his hands are white. “This is wrong. I cannot even think of how blind I could have been for not seeing that.”  
  
"Maybe because you only care about hunts." Sam snaps. "We’re not like other people. We’re not the normal family."  
  
"This is wrong nonetheless," John snaps back.  
  
Sam snorts. "You know what? I’m not asking you to understand this. I don’t need you to approve. You can pretend you didn’t see anything, or you can’t and you can say whatever you what, I don’t care."  
  
"Don’t you dare using that tone with me, boy."  
  
"I’m not a boy, I’m an adult."  
  
"You make all the wrong choices, I can’t consider you an adult."  
  
"Just because I make choices you don’t like, it doesn’t mean I’m in wrong." Sam runs out of patience. "Dean and I –"  
  
"You’re brothers.”  
  
“We’re much more than that.” Sam almost smiles, which makes John even more angry.  
  
“Sam, what the hell are you thinking?” John hits the steering wheel with his palms. It’s a good thing they are alone on a road and there are no cops in sight. “How long this has being going on?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter.”  
  
“It matters, dammit!”  
  
“It doesn’t.”  
  
“Sam, fuck. You can’t. You can’t think this is right. I didn’t raise you like this.”  
  
Sam laughs bitterly. “You didn’t raise me. Dean did.”  
  
John looks dumbstruck, taken aback by Sam’s response. It’s the naked truth and John bites the dust, looking away from his son to the empty road. Sam wonders what is passing through his mind, if he’s finally coming to his senses, if Sam’s words and the vision of his sons kissing each other has shaken his world finally. Nothing changed after Sammy’s departure for Stanford or Dean’s disappearance and the knowledge of having a grandson hasn’t brought a difference in John’s lifestyle, but the incest… that’s another story entirely.  
  
“I did what was best for you and your brother,” dad says after a long moment.  
  
“Have you seen Dean and his kid? _That_ is what we needed when we were kids. Not a four year old child taking care of a toddler.”  
  
John looks at Sam. “Sammy, I –“  
  
The lights of a truck capture their attention; John tries to avoid it but he isn’t successful. The last thing Sam remembers is the crashing of the Impala against the truck and the pain swallows his mind entirely.  
  
  
  
**Dean**  
  
 _Holding his son for the first time is the most amazing thing in his life.  
  
Dean hasn’t taken his eyes off Jacob since Gabriel put him in his arms. It didn’t matter if Bobby is clearly wiping his eyes off from some runaway tears, or his whole body is asking to have some rest, Dean has eyes only for his son.  
  
It’s incredible.  
  
“Come on, Dean-o, you need to sleep now.” Gabriel pops his bubble of joy. His voice comes a little low, confused, so far away. “You’re exhausted.”  
  
“I’m fine,” says Dean, caressing Jake’s soft cheek with his index finger. It’s so smooth and warm. It seems almost impossible that Sam and he made that little life. Suddenly, the nostalgia overwhelms him.  
  
If only Sammy was there…  
  
Jacob yawns and opens his little mouth. He settles in Dean’s arms, making a small sound, before falling asleep again.  
  
“Idjit, you have to rest.”  
  
“Later.”  
  
Bobby touches his shoulder and Dean shrugs him off. “Your eyes are closing, Dean. Give me Jake and have some sleep.”  
  
Dean doesn’t realise it, but his sight has become blurred. The fear of letting fall Jake, even on the bed, tightens its grip around his heart. He hands over Jake to Bobby. “Watch out for him.”  
  
“I’ll take care of him.”  
  
Before he knows it, Dean closes his eyes and dreams of his son, of Sam and sharing that moment together._  
  
  
It’s Gabriel who tells Dean.  
  
Dean is bent over a fantastic Camaro, checking the engine and running a list of things to buy in his head when Gabriel appears out of thin air, with a serious expression on his face that doesn’t belong to him at all. He worries immediately.  
  
“Jake is –“  
  
“Jake is fine,” interrupts him the Trickster. “But there has been an accident. Your father and brother are –“  
  
Dean takes Gabriel by his jacket in a second, angry. “What happened?” He spits out. “Why didn’t you do anything?”  
  
“Whoa, I cannot be everywhere –“  
  
“Are they –“  
  
Gabriel shakes his head. “They’re not dead, hold your horses. They’re at the hospital.”  
  
“Where?” Dean feels almost sick.  
  
“I’ll bring you to them.”  
  
Dean’s hand doesn’t leave Gabriel’s jacket. He tightens his grip, but he doesn’t have to vocalise his fear, the Trickster anticipates him. “I’m going to pick up Jake from the pre-school. Now hold me, I’ll take you to your family.”  
  
It’s a moment, and Dean is not at his garage anymore, but in the hallway of a hospital, just in front of a semi-closed door. Sam is there, lying on the bed, still and unmoving. Dean leaves the Trickster, hurrying inside the room to Sammy’s side.  
  
His brother has half of his face red and purple, he has a broken arm and his lips, the same lips Dean kissed a couple of hours ago, are cut and bloody. His right hand is wrapped in bandages, just like his left arm, and his breath is irregular.  
  
Dean touches Sam’s healthy hand, trying to ease the terror that has taken him. He remembers when he ran outside the burning nursery with Sammy in his arms, he remembers being desperate to save his little brother, sure that daddy would save mommy from the ceiling. The guilt hits him, making his stomach churn and twist and his blood boil in his veins. Where was Dean when Sammy was in danger? Why did he disobey dad’s order before? He could have asked Bobby to take care of Jake, so Dean would have been in the Impala. Maybe things would have gone differently.  
  
Sammy’s hand is warm. Sammy is alive, and Dean sits down on the chair, taking a deep breath. _He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive._ The guilt and the anger are still there, but Dean can breathe again, now that he knows that his little brother is alive.  
  
Irregular steps come from behind Dean.  
  
He turns his head towards the door and he finds his dad standing there, leaning on a crutch, his face scarred with little cuts, but he otherwise looks well. “I’m fine,” says gruffly dad before Dean can ask anything.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“Demon driver.”  
  
Dean turns to Sam again, watching his brother breathe in and out. “I’m sorry, dad. I should have been there.”  
  
John remains silent, pensive, then, he limps towards the bed and sits on the empty chair beside his eldest son. “You couldn’t have done anything.”  
  
“I should –“ Dean bites back angry tears. “I should have been with you. It’s me who should have been here, in this bed. And Sammy would have been fine.”  
  
A hand weighs on Dean’s shoulder.  
  
“You did the right thing,” says John. “Staying with – your son. We didn’t expect that, but we’ll manage. Sammy is going to wake up. Don’t worry. He’s strong.”  
  
“Of course he’s going to wake up, or I’m going to kick his ass.” He attempts a smile. He looks down, remembering that he’s still holding Sammy’s hand. He quickly drops it, trying to act calm and collected, hoping that dad hasn’t noticed it.  
  
“You’re going take care of him, right?” John asks, with rough voice.  
  
“What the fuck, dad –“  
  
John shakes his head, looking at his youngest son on the bed. “You’re going to take care of each other. I know it.”  
  
“Dad?”  
  
John stands with a little bit of effort, and he puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder again and squeezes it. “I’m proud of you, son.” His voice cracks. “Remember that.”  
  



	5. Chapter 5

 

  
  
  
**Sam**  
  
When Sam opens his eyes, he finds Dean by his side, sitting in an uncomfortable chair near his bed, eyes closed, snoring peacefully. He doesn’t really remember what has brought him there, but he concedes himself a couple of minutes to look at his brother and his features. It’s been so long since he had that possibility.  
  
His whole body aches and his right eye pulses, when Sam tries to raise his hand, he hisses in pain. That’s when he looks around at the little room in an unknown hospital, feeling every limb of his body hurt. Little by little, Sam remembers the events; the fight with dad, the truck that smashes the Impala, the demon that drove the truck, yellow eyes and amused smirk, the helicopter and the EMTs…  
  
Where’s dad?  
  
The last thing he remembers is his father with his head leaned against the broken glass of the window and his face bloody.  
  
He fights against the pain and touches Dean’s knee. “Dean?” He calls. “Dean?”  
  
Dean opens his green eyes, batting his eyelashes a few times, owlishly.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
His brother stands up and goes to Sam’s bed, watching him closely, suddenly awake and in total mother hen mode. “Sammy? Are you okay? Do you feel pain? I’ll call the doctor.”  
  
“Wait. Where’s dad?”  
  
“He’s fine,” says Dean quickly, already rushing towards the exit to call for a doctor or a nurse.  
  
Sam feels uneasy. He knows that there’s something wrong with Dean, something that he’s keeping from him.  
  
“Where’s dad, Dean?” Sam asks again.  
  
“He’s gone,” Dean answers finally. “He left the hospital a couple of hours after I came. He took a car and took off, god knows where.” He takes a deep breath. “He’s going after the demon, Sammy.”  
  
“By himself? Hurt? After what happened? Dean, we cannot –“  
  
“Gabriel is going to look out for him,” comments Dean.  
  
“The Trickster?”  
  
The arrival of the doctor interrupts them. He checks Sam’s vital signs, claiming that he was very lucky but now that he finally woke up, things are looking good for him. His broken arm and cracked ribs are going to be an issue for the next few months, but before Sam can worry about that, Dean is already asking about pills, physical therapy and everything claiming that he’s going to take care of him.  
  
“Dean, you don’t have to –“ Sam starts once they’re alone.  
  
“What the fuck are you saying? You’re my brother, you’re my responsibility.”  
  
“Jacob –“  
  
“The little man is fine. He’s eager to know his – to know you better.”  
  
Sam smiles. “I’d really like to know my nephew better. I bet he’s just like you.”  
  
Dean hesitates.  
  
“Dean? What is it?”  
  
His brother stares at him with a serious expression on his face. There is determination in his eyes, but the way he’s scratching the tender skin of his wrist is saying a lot about his nervousness.  
  
“There is something I should tell you about Jake and I think it’s better if I tell you now, while you’re on bed rest for the next six months.”  
  
Sam tries to find a better and much more comfortable position on the bed, waiting for Dean to stop being cryptic.  
  
“Jake isn’t your nephew. He’s your son.”  
  
  
  
  
**Dean**  
  
The silence that follows Dean’s revelation is long and tense.  
  
But he doesn’t wait for Sam to catch up and start laughing (in the best scenario possible) or looking at him like he’s some crazy monkey (worst scenario). Dean spits out everything in a long monologue, from the beginning, the meeting with the Trickster, and the incredible gift they’ve been given in the shape of a son.  
  
Sam accepts his words as the truth. He listens to Dean’s speech attentively, with a deep frown on his forehead and his lips semi-parted, like he’s always on the verge of telling or asking something but he doesn’t dare interrupt his brother. When Dean finally quiets down, Sam takes a deep breath.  
  
“That’s some crazy shit.”  
  
“You tell me.”  
  
“You should have come to me,” says Sam, hurt. “Why didn’t you do that? Why face everything by yourself? I had the right to know.”  
  
"I knew that you wanted normal." Dean says with a soft voice. Dad's departure hurts, but he tries not to show it too much. He's a dad too now, and he needs to be strong to face his baby brother. Well, not so baby anymore.  
  
"And you thought because of that I would – I don't know, leave you by yourself?"  
  
"You did."  
  
"It was different." Sam sighs. "You chose to stay with dad."  
  
"Yes, but it didn't mean that we had to be strangers!" Dean argues. "I tried to call you again and again, I left tons of voicemails, I didn't get a fucking answer. Even if I decided to tell you about Jacob, I wouldn't have been able to say anything."  
  
"I changed my number, but, come on, Dean, you know how to find someone."  
  
"You made it fucking clear you didn't want anything to do with me or dad," accuses Dean.  
  
"You were pregnant from a Trickster's spell. You needed help. I cannot believe you looked for help in Bobby and the Trickster himself when you should have come to me." Sam snaps. "The child is mine too."  
  
"For what concerns me, Jacob has no other father than me." Dean says harshly. "You were out of picture. You still are."  
  
"I'm here!" Sam almost shouts. "I'm here and I want to stay."  
  
Dean snorts. "You have a life at Stanford, the life you have always wanted."  
  
Sam presses the wrists against his eyelids. "Dean, how can you be so stupid?"  
  
"Stupid?"  
  
Sam looks like he's trying to explain a very difficult matter to a very slow child. "I know I gave you the wrong impression, but, Dean, I love you. When I went to Stanford I expected you to come with me and when you chose dad I was distraught. I'm sorry I didn't return your calls and I haven't searched for you. I apologize. I was an idiot. But I still love you. Nothing has changed. You were the only one for me. I didn't stop thinking of you or how the things should have gone."  
  
Dean interrupts him. "I don't give a crap about 'ifs' and 'buts', Sam. You chose Stanford, I chose Jake. Now you're here and you know about Jake. Fine. I didn't plan to keep the secret forever." He interrupts himself. "Or maybe not, but the point is now you know about Jake and I have no intention of keeping him away from you, but don't you dare start to consider yourself as the father. He's my son."  
  
"It's nonsense, do you realize that? You either let me into his life or don't."  
  
"You're my brother. You can be Jacob's uncle."  
  
"Come on, Dean, we're not going to keep things platonic between us." Sam says with tenderness and a hint of sadness.  
  
He's telling the fucking truth, and Dean has to acknowledge it, because even now, even after what they have been through, even after all those years, Dean wants nothing more than to kiss Sam and hold him and caress his skin and be with him.  
  
It's uncontrollable and strong and Dean's hands itch to take the first step and close the gap between them. The temptation to say 'It's okay, Sammy, you're my world like you were before. I forgive you. Let's sort things out' is strong, but Dean thinks about Jake. Sammy is not his whole world now. There's Jake in the equation. He has to think what is best for him.  
  
"I want to be part of Jacob and your life again," adds Sam. "I did a lot of things wrong but I promise you that nothing, nothing can keep me away from you."  
  
There's a lump in Dean's throat. "How about Stanford?"  
  
"Screw Stanford." Sam smiles. "I want you."  
  
"How about your normal life? You fought so hard for it."  
  
"I can build something here, with you." Sam takes Dean's calloused hand and squeezes it. "Even if it means making it up to you every day."  
  
Dean takes a deep breath. He thinks about all the nights and days he spent alone, pregnant, with the burning desire to run to Stanford and look for Sam, with the hope that Sam will open his door, welcome him in his life and make a space for the kid.  
  
The hope has died over the years, but now there's Sam in front of him, with his heart in his hands, confessing his deepest desire, begging him for forgiveness and asking for a second chance.  
  
It's Dean's hope to have another shot.  
  
"Let's try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I posted this fanfic previously on LJ and people are asking for a sequel. What do you think? Sequel, yay or nay?


End file.
